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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28608150">G B , C B</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurnInHellFellInAWell/pseuds/BurnInHellFellInAWell'>BurnInHellFellInAWell</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>No Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2007-01-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2007-01-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:40:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>55,124</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28608150</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurnInHellFellInAWell/pseuds/BurnInHellFellInAWell</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>G B , C B</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gossamer Bitch, Coffin Bitch.</p><p>I remember waking up to the sound of rummaging in my closet. My face scrunched up, the rocky ceiling was the first thing I saw through squinted eyes. I didn't move. The sound came again and I held my breath this time. A zipper being pulled stood out from the continuing sound, like a breaker that spiked the frequency, it made my heart feel agonized as my mind started to conclude what that exactly was. </p><p>I sat up cautiously, my eyes staying on the open closet and the dim light that was coming from it. Now I could see his shadow moving around. </p><p>I reached for my clothes. Instead of keeping it in a neat pile when I get home from anything that I do, I throw it around. </p><p>I pick up each piece, I'm constantly looking behind me and keeping quiet while I dress myself. </p><p>I pull my shirt over my head, mentally cursing myself for keeping everything disorganized. I didn't want him to see me like this. </p><p>Then again all of this could’ve been avoided if I never gave him a spare key to my house. That wouldn’t have been good though...</p><p>I truly didn't know what position I'd take today or what I had to mold myself into. I had no knowledge on what he was doing here… or worse, what he wanted. Why was he in my closet? What exactly was he looking for? It couldn’t be what I was thinking. </p><p>His movements were angry, there was a way of telling how his actions sounded. Being with him long enough, it was easy to label it, and this sounded like it could fall into that category.</p><p>I pulled my shorts up while buttoning them. I stared at the ground as everything around me froze. </p><p>What if he knew?</p><p>He didn't have to run me back on how my life was a complete mess. </p><p>“You're awake.” It wasn't happy, it wasn't angry, there wasn't another word for it other than bland. </p><p>I looked over at him quickly, slightly shook as I nodded, “yeah,” my voice hardly reaching a quarter of his. </p><p>The sun was barely creeping into my room from the slanted blinds, I hadn't even realized how early it was. </p><p>I looked over at him wondering how much time he had been here for and if he had been watching me sleep, before the whole closet thing. </p><p>His jacket was still on, so, maybe not a long time? He never liked wearing it in doors. </p><p>And pessimistic thoughts came to run my mind when I realized that. As morbid as it was (controlling, was a better term.) I needed it to function, part of me did. That part of me was sitting in the back of my mind, constantly coming up for air when it saw him then it would deteriorate like it never existed. The indifference was bright red when it came to us, at least now it was. </p><p>There was something… different, when he came around this time. It was easy to see it and it wasn't going to drown at the bottom of a lake anytime soon.</p><p>His sunken eyes were avoiding me after he spoke for the first time, that was new. He stood there almost awkwardly, but I could always forgive him for anything he ever did. </p><p>That wasn't fair.</p><p>I wanted to wrap my arms around him. I wanted him to do the same. Drag him onto my bed, just to talk… I miss doing that. It was so simple to do so… we — I could scratch the bed part, standing in our own places, we could talk? but even cutting that in half was still hard, we were never on the same page anymore. </p><p>Sometimes I wondered if there was something going on with him? sickness wise. It could be that, and he just didn’t wanna tell me. That undoubtedly hurt. </p><p>Or maybe being sober was the thing that was killing him. I was terrible for doing that shit around him. I just couldn’t control the stuff that I do. I needed to smoke, it gave me my ease and nowadays I was always searching for it. </p><p>I made my way over to him. “You didn't call.” That was done religiously, now it seemed like it was godly to sin. </p><p>I was halfway through my room to where he stood when he looked up at me. His expression finally shifting from bland to something displeased, at the same time it seemed like he couldn't believe what I was saying.</p><p>That made my walk falter, my emotions loose and my chest tighten. The confidence that I found ran away as well.</p><p>He wanted to lash out, I saw the look that was there for a split second at best but it disappeared into something… fragile. That was short-lived as well, regardless it made me frown but I never took my eyes off of him, there was something missing. </p><p>He kissed his teeth and looked away, “C'mon,” he threw the bag at my chest. Luckily, I caught it. Despite fumbling a bit with it. </p><p>“Where are we going?” I readjusted my grip on the bag while looking down at it. I wonder what he packed for me? </p><p>“Fenwick.” </p><p>I was slightly taken aback, “where the hell is that? have we been there before?” </p><p>“There’s something I wanna see there.” there was a slight jaw clench when he spoke, dilated eyes stared at the wooden floor. </p><p>There were so many — my phone was sitting over the nightstand when a notification came in. We both quickly turned to look at it.</p><p>The fear that was at the back of my mind grew into a silhouette around me, it held larger attributes than any of my other feelings. Everything was drowned out when I stared at the phone. The screen was lighting up continuously. I didn’t dare look at him, I knew he was watching me now. </p><p>Menace. </p><p>That's the thing that was missing from him. My fingers gripped the bag tighter. </p><p>“I'll be in the car.” </p><p>“Okay,” I mumbled, my mind backtracking to where I left my white pouches. </p><p>¹/////</p><p>I laid my head back into the pink fluff that covered the seats. My eyes fluttered as I tried my best to stay awake, I wasn't exactly sure how many times I had already passed out. It definitely was hard to keep my eyes on anything. There was no connection but still, I didn't want to pull my phone out after what had happened. </p><p>The repetition of trees and light rain swayed me into my string of inconsistent naps. Plus I had always found it difficult to keep my eyes open while in this specific car. </p><p>There was somewhat a wholesome feeling that was most likely one-sided as of late. It was one of the first cars we bought, both of our likes mixed into one. And it was easy to spot them out with a single look at the car.</p><p>A black, matte, muscle car with a pale-blue under glow and a Limousine tint — That was a good and a bad thing, it really depended on what the mood was, if it wasn't a “good” one or anything touching that, forcibility was always an option and that itself could put anyone in that position to re-think.</p><p>The inside of it was mainly black with a white trim along with the seat belts. The seats were taffy pink, I always loved the idea of having fluffy seats, my hand could run over it forever.</p><p>I wondered why he had brought this one out and not something less expensive. I wasn't complaining though. </p><p>It just didn't really make sense. He was mad at me but he brought the car that we had promised to not use if one of us wasn't present. It was like a special occasion and this was far from? I don't know.</p><p>It was nice to see that he didn't break that rule though. </p><p>He had been quiet the whole time, never even moving or looking over at me. It was tense from the beginning, now it was close to evening. The rain had stopped now and I wondered what the weather was like. </p><p>We used to stop at random places just to feel the change in the air after a long drive. Holding hands or him leaning on me.</p><p>He felt like a ghost… and maybe that's why I couldn't quite put his entity into words. This wasn't exactly new either, and of course, his anger towards me added to his demeanor. </p><p>I hadn't forgotten about me yet. There were things to say but he didn't want to hear it, I knew that. I wish I could know what he was thinking without him saying a word, not second hand guesses from my skittish mind.</p><p>“So,” I turned to him, my raspy voice from my naps cut through the music that had been playing on low, right when I spoke, was when I only noticed it. </p><p>“What's this thing you wanna see?” There was no slight change in his expression, his eyes stared straight ahead; completely ignoring me. I watched his arms, then his hands as they controlled the steering wheel, my eyes scoping out that certain grip-of-anger. </p><p>I couldn't lie -- each passing second and stop we made at the traffic light there was no reaction from him and it was making me desperte. </p><p>I didn't want to push it any further, he’ll come around later anyway. “Alright,” I lowered my dad hat slightly while pursing my lips and looking out the window.</p><p>“Why you even get that on you?” A remark and yet, it made me turn to look at him. My heart felt light, it also felt like a kick to my gut. But, he was talking to me! And, that's all that really mattered.</p><p>Everything he said was always under constant scrutiny. It wasn't on purpose, I just needed to know what was being asked, like now.</p><p>Get what? I traced everything, maybe he was talking about my clothes? An expression I was making? The whole way here it was dead-eyed and sometimes dipping into a frown. Now it was just worry and yet, it seemed like being frantic was a mutual term that revolved around me when it came to being with him.</p><p>I wasn't up for a guessing game with myself, at the same time I couldn't say something that was irrelevant to the question, that would ensue, possible anger? That kind of stuff was normal and I always wondered if he did that on purpose, like a free pass to be irritable.</p><p>Apart from that I couldn't let his question sit unanswered, “what?” I looked at my wrist immediately after saying that. He must've caught a glimpse of it when I adjusted my hat. I felt a wave of heat and embarrassment when I realized the new-ish tattoo was the subject of his questioning.</p><p>My eyes outlined the dove as I wondered what he was about to say — negative or positive, I truly didn't know.</p><p>And maybe it was good that he asked, was there some sort of issue? It was just a tattoo. It wasn't something drastic, it was clean and dainty in a way, I liked it, my friends did too.</p><p>“We only hung out with him twice.” I frowned slightly, feeling a little bit of shame, knowing that it wasn’t completely true and it ran me back on why this whole trip even started. (maybe)</p><p>“You didn't even know him well.” That part was true, I only knew what he put on display, the loss of dignity was a characteristic, everyone knew that but it never mattered, so in all seriousness: what was left to truly know about him? He was a whore. A shit upbringing? yeah. Who gives a fuck about that same old bullshit? what he became — what he was outshined all of that.</p><p>“If anything he seemed uncomfortable around you.” I rolled my eyes thinking back on the nights in the back room of the London venue, Scott wasn't there, only the first night when we all met up. Things weren't “uncomfortable.” </p><p>That jealousy must've been constant because he needed that final strike to make me regret my decisions but I wouldn't be doing that for this. If it was something else then things would be different. </p><p>I normalized the type of love he gave me and the rigid edges of the relationship we dipped in sometimes. Normalization probably wasn’t the right term for it. I loved it. And, despite it being something to grieve about (on any outside view of it) his “love” was leaving and turning into wilted interlacing stems. </p><p>I didn't have to hear it to know that it was the truth. The worst part, currently in these past months, he came around as if there was nothing wrong with how he would leave, I couldn't complain about the other “bad” things, because I missed them...</p><p>I wonder if he ever thought of regretting the way he tends to treat me at times. He was able to uphold his composure and push so much uncertainty on to me without even looking at me. It was almost as if it was natural to him. Or in a morbid term: he genuinely enjoyed it.</p><p>That thought, it was more of a… theory now. I picked up on the way he treated certain “things.” from head shakes, disapproving words, to topping it off with stares, those were the worst. </p><p>We could be anywhere, but a small room where we were across from each other always filled that scenario perfectly. And I could be doing anything, writing, practicing vocals, sitting around, literally anything and he would never let go of me. </p><p>I never knew what it meant when he would look at me like that, what he wanted exactly? The question/confrontation never came up. Then again was there even a need for one? I put my own words into his actions: he didn't want me out of his sight, not on his terms at least. </p><p>That could’ve been wrong, maybe, but it was the only explanation that seemed viable. Some nights it seemed true, others that was nothing but a stupid assumption. </p><p>It was unfair, he could do whatever — I looked over at him, holding my thoughts, not wanting to dwell into that bitter string of emotions. I don’t want to hate him either.</p><p>Going back to the thought I had when we were across from each other in my room, that whole thing. It was annoying but my explanation didn't have to go far. If he weren't driving right now, and we were in the back seat with someone else at the wheel, he'd be doing it. </p><p>Regardless of that, the staring was fine before the whole “new era” (As I've classified it to be) I liked looking at him too, back then it was the thing that killed my anxiety.  </p><p>That was his prime, I always said it was. He liked the way I admired him. There were still parts of what we used to do left around us. That was one of them. My fingers ran through his hair, he would smile and I would lean upwards to kiss him and call him beautiful. </p><p>Or leaning on his shoulder while he chain-smoked. I remember we used to do that a lot inside of the shed.</p><p>There was other stuff but I couldn't bring my mind to that rotation of memories. </p><p>“I admired his music, I liked what he was doing, it wasn't about his opinion on me,” I quietly brought it in. He knew it wasn't that.</p><p>“What happened to your standards?” It was mocking of course and I could already imagine the shit show he had pulled together when he spoke to other people about it. </p><p>He pulled into a gas stop and my mood shifted knowing that there was going to be some kind of action needed. Maybe we both get off? Maybe he just gets off? Or maybe he demands me to go unwillingly like he had most times.</p><p>I stared at the shop, repeating the name over and over again in my head but it didn't register, instead I was stuck with that shit comment. I didn't want to say a thing, this is the last thing I wanted between us.</p><p>He turned to face me for the first time. My eyes met his as they came off of the store's sign. “Where's mine?” </p><p>“What are- your what?” My voice was nothing, there was no engine or slight music to back me up, just treachery and blue eyes.</p><p>“My tattoo.” There was that version of him that wasn't fully aggressive but it was leaning towards that, the annoyance was garnished over it too. He made this into something it shouldn't have been, he knew it was messing with me.</p><p>I looked away, over the years I found it harder to keep eye contact with him. “I really haven't had time to do that,” I quietly mumbled while rubbing my arm.</p><p>“But you have time for that 13-year-old-emo shit?” His accent became prominent and it made me tense up, escalation was inevitable now.</p><p>“That’s fucked, Ruby.” He didn’t give me time to even respond. He hopped out, slamming the door shut.</p><p>I sighed, it was better that he did that, I didn’t even know what I would’ve said to back me up, probably nothing, he most likely knew that and that’s why he left. </p><p>He leaned onto the car instead of walking into the store. I stared at his back confused. Was he waiting for me?</p><p>I quickly grabbed the sweater that I threw in the backseat. Pulling it over myself as I opened the door and trailed over to him. </p><p>I stood there awkwardly before he looked over at me with tired eyes. I needed to make up everything I was doing. </p><p>He rolled his eyes almost as if he knew what I was thinking, he always labeled the things I did for him unauthentic. </p><p>I slightly frowned as he started walking and I followed him aimlessly.</p><p>The clouds were torn apart and stretched out into irregular patches over Fenwick. </p><p>And under it? Us.</p><p>There was that shit feeling again and a vibe killer, did this depressing town add to it or was it us creating those things? Whichever it was it was trapped in between the both of us and escape was a foreign word.</p><p>But it wasn’t exactly there -- Melancholic thoughts and an indefinite number of cigarette packs were on my end, those 14 bumps of cocaine were still holding me down pretty good but I knew, staring up at the sky, that nauseating feeling could show up at any moment. </p><p>mindless rage on him, there was a sliver of possible regret? I know that there was. He wouldn’t have waited for me if there wasn’t… maybe it was that or he wanted something from me. </p><p>He knew…And I knew that I would give him anything with any measly butter-up, regardless of any inflictions that happened prior. </p><p>As soon as I walked in from behind him, I semi-ran towards the bathroom. It felt awful knowing that his eyes were following me down the way there. </p><p>My thoughts were scrambled at this point for the second time since getting out of the car, it seems like that’s all it was during the whole trip here. </p><p>Despite not being able to see him staring at me, I wondered what was really on his mind. Why were we here? How did he find out? It wasn’t good, obviously. </p><p>On what number of a scale did this whole thing fall on? His eyes were like hot needles that were lightly being pressed up against my back and that was the worst because they’d be ripping through my skin soon, it was just a matter of time before things got out of control.</p><p>I locked the door behind me. Sighing loudly, I ran my hand down my face. </p><p>Finally, I was alone. The difference was immediate, I could have my time to breathe, but most importantly; think. </p><p>Luckily, when entering the gas station, there was no one around, even in Fenwick, for that matter. Which was more than good, the last thing we need is for some crazy fan to come up to either of us. </p><p>²====</p><p>Drugs were like feelings to me... sticking a finger in my mouth as I bent over the toilet was — I could possibly make them go away. I could take them to make me feel a certain way, most times. But real, prominent feelings that indented over my soul, like the one looming around now, was far from a crushed pill, it could never leave, no matter how much I threw up.</p><p>I wiped the vomit that was over my mouth with the back of my hand, vertigo ensued as I stood up. I stared at the vomit until the smell clung to the air and became unbearable to breath in.</p><p>I blinked a few times, wanting his boney hands to wrap around me from behind. His hold on me was strong enough to push me back into his chest, yet, lightly, there was a certain way he did it. I could never get enough of it. </p><p>After that, he'd kiss my neck. Just once, before he spoke.</p><p>“I'm done for the night.”</p><p>“Let's go out.”</p><p>That heavy NOLA accent got me doing whatever he wanted.</p><p>I flushed it away before realizing I was alone. </p><p>I couldn't help but hate that fucking feeling, and it was so prominently tied to the walls, tiles, the sink… the goddamn cracked mirror.</p><p>I headed towards the sink, my eyes squinting as I kept an eye on my reflection. My walk was off, the balance of my footing wobbly, I held onto the wall, collecting stains of god-knows-what. </p><p>I latched onto the edges of the sink next. This time I could give myself a better examination. My face was beyond fucked up, and hair in split ends with brushed out curls. The orange side, fading out and it really did look the worst.</p><p>I felt every type of way in that instance. I wanted to know how he felt about me. </p><p>I turned the water on and let it run so the bathroom wouldn’t sound so empty, and, at least that way there was something holding it from closing in on itself. </p><p>I went back to the mirror, the cigarette was missing between my fingers. I could’ve sworn I saw blue eyes staring at me from the mirror as I gagged. </p><p>The scenery was different, a contrast from the shitty bathroom in Fenwick. There was a heavy bass kicking through the walls, the smell of cigarettes clung to the air so heavily, and my mind couldn't find ease as everything came spilling out of me and my stomach lurched in pain.</p><p>I held onto my burning sides as I was over the sink, for a split second the music came in, what was that playing? It sounded like Pouya… were we here with him? I couldn't remember for the life of me. </p><p>I heard footsteps coming from behind me, I swayed in my position before feeling another wave hit me and the bass kicked on the walls harder. The thumping of the walls matched the pain in my head. </p><p>I held onto the sink waiting for the next wave of throwup to come out of me but it never did. Instead his voice cut through the melodic piano that garnished a track I couldn't put a name over, in that moment at least. </p><p>It sounded terrible as I began to shake but I could sense a minor calmness… Was it him? Or had I finally gotten every ounce of it out of me and these were just the minimal side effects?</p><p>“You tryna die tonight?” He grabbed my shoulders while looking down at me. The smell of cannabis soon surrounded me and it was unusual coming from him.</p><p>I looked up, now he was staring at me from the mirror. It wasn't anger but a trace of it was there. </p><p>He always had those fucking needles in his veins. He stopped for me; preaching as if I wasn't swiping up Roxy residue with my tongue. He shouldn't have taken advice from me but he did. </p><p>Now I felt beyond guilty, even though he never seemed to blame me or call me out on anything. Maybe it was something that was resting and it would be an argument soon, like now? </p><p>It didn't seem like there was one coming, though. He had a concerned look, it was genuine too.</p><p>My tongue ran along my dry lips in an effort to make the dehydrating feeling go away but I knew that it wasn't gone ‘till the morning.</p><p>Maybe I should've just smoked tonight. Now that he picked it up too, we could've done it together. Not that we don't, it's just that tonight I was too confident and wandered off alone.</p><p>Anyway, it was strange smelling weed from him, that was synonymous with me. All he ever smoked were cigarettes and I liked him for that too. </p><p>His scent, I could have it stuck with me for an eternity. But that new smell only added more allure. It wasn't a mistaken feeling when I told myself that I was attracted to him more now. It was inviting and it was classified as a real thought before the broken ones came and the pain in my stomach fired up again.</p><p>I didn't want to act skittish but my mind started regretting my choices even more when he brought up dying. </p><p>“No, no, I can’t die right now,” my hand instinctively went to my neck, my fingers frantically searched for my pulse. </p><p>The pain started to simmer down but I realized that it was coming back every once in a while in agonizing pulses. I grit my teeth as my fingers felt the slow pumps on my neck. </p><p>He forced me to turn around and look up at him, despite my fragile state. “What the hell did you think was gonna happen?” </p><p>“I told you that I supply your shit not those fuckers, y’know that shit is laced.” A vague memory of my earlier interactions played, like smudges over the faces I only saw palms, pink pills… and my hand handing over a 20, or something like that. I couldn’t even remember how much I spent on that shit. </p><p>I pushed him off of me, I caught a slight frown from him but I couldn't register anything to properly assess it, “I know, just give me a fuckin’ second, alright?” I turned away from him, my hands quickly going to the sink as I carried myself the best I could. </p><p>“Let’s just get outta here, alright?” His arm came from behind, in hand, he had a rolled-up piece of cloth and I watched from the mirror as he wiped the sweat off my face. There was that fragile tone, it hardly ever came around and I was wasting it up. </p><p>“No, I’m just — I’m just so fucked right now,” I breathed out, my half-lidded eyes stared at the sink.</p><p>“I’ll carry you,” he nudged me in an upward motion as if he was going to pick me up. Laughing a little my hands immediately placed over his,“stop.” </p><p>I looked up at the mirror and he was staring at me again but this time there was a smile on his face, I was living for it.</p><p>He placed a kiss over my head before pressing his face into my hair and breathing onto it. “You can’t do this to me,” his voice was muffled but soft. </p><p>Tears started to build up, I wanted to cry in his arms, I hate myself for making him go through this.</p><p>I didn't say a word, instead I turned around to hug him. </p><p>“Do you fucking understand?” He wrapped his arms around me in return. I took in his scent again feeling dizzy with a light smile, despite that my emotions got the best of me, again. </p><p>I nodded, tears were streaming down my face. My hands set over his chest but soon they gripped onto his shirt. I couldn’t feel the ground below me and he knew this as he held my hips. I leaned up to place a kiss over his lips, “take me home, please.” I nodded with his suggestion even though he said it minutes ago.</p><p>I knew that this was the environment we needed to be in. Despite the shit feeling that was over me and the downers with liquor that I mixed. There's no place that I would rather be. </p><p>I dipped down into the water, my face fully submerged, my hair flowing around me as it went in as well. I wanted to stay here and I could never truly tell if I was crying when I would do this, or if I was just lying to myself. The tears felt like they were slipping out of me but I never felt different when it happened. </p><p>I felt his hand over my head, at first, it was so delicate over my hair then it turned into something rough. His fingers held my roots so aggressively. My throat pressed down on the edge of the sink and my mind did whatever it could to get my thoughts off of dying in a shitty motel in Palmer. </p><p>If he did it, part of me would be fine with it. That’s why I didn’t put up a fight, and I don’t think I ever would. But I needed him to go down with me too, and the other part of me was certain that he would. Probably jerk off over my body, shoot up and that would finally be the day that he did it. </p><p>While in the water, I couldn't remember exactly what it was that got him so riled up, riled up to the point where this would be the outcome. OR if he just wanted to see me do something new. </p><p>We had just gotten done with a show. The drive to the motel was quiet. I remember pulling up to the door and how empty the place was and why he had made the decision to stay here? And not in a hotel that was in the inner-city but rather this run down shit hole.</p><p>Regardless, I didn't complain, it was always better to keep my mouth shut in these instances. Things started to get… difficult between us. I still cared about us but I was struggling to kick my Roxy addiction too. So, things started turning into a schedule while on the road and I just couldn’t wait to be back home. </p><p>He never spoke a word and I didn't care enough to ask what was wrong. </p><p>He would leave during the night and not come back ‘till it was time to leave. Of course, I knew what he was going out to do, he never kept that shit a secret. It wasn’t helpful and it made me feel bitter at times but I couldn’t really say anything because I did it a few times as well. </p><p>“Shared” or whatever the hell he dubbed it as the other night. Sometimes he would even bring one or some around and do it while I was still in the hotel or motel room. I always wondered why he did that. Was it to flare up jealousy or was it because we were so close things like that were deemed as OK? </p><p>I could’ve picked either; sitting in the tub while drinking wine. I never gave a fuck which one it was becuase it was just a short-lived muse -- they were that and I was forever~ </p><p>“Aye, Ruby, C’mere real quick.” I poked my head out of the bathroom, an eyebrow raised as I stared at him. There was a slight annoyance to his tone, he stood in the small space between the sofa and the coffee table.</p><p>“Sit over here,” he extended his hand pointing at the right side of the couch. I lightly scrunched up my face but walked over there.</p><p>The conversations between us weren't the strongest lately. That didn't necessarily cut ties between the fucking… Then again, that wasn't reaching a peak anytime soon. Things were pretty dull, at least on my end. I never had the time to fully enjoy anything. He was quick about it, harsher than what it should be. I didn’t mind it, I liked it. The sores or the bite marks, that was a sense of his presence and that was something to want, because it came with no definition, despite knowing how it got there (plus the vulgarness of it.) I could make up any back story to it, my typical term: it was done with love. </p><p>Someone — I don't remember who, said that there were parts like these in relationships. The actual love wasn't twining anymore but it would be again. Like walking over thin ice, if that were true then it sure seemed like he was stomping instead. </p><p>He watched me sit on the couch, I wasn’t typically feeling a certain way. Sure, I always wanted him but I never knew when that certain thing was going to happen, he always called the shots. </p><p>Droplets of water slid down my body, I was already changed but it felt a little odd sitting there wet. My hands came over my knees as they covered the tattoos in that area. </p><p>I couldn't deny that I had some irritability in me this whole week. Withdrawals had me fucked up and I couldn't imagine the shit he’s gone through coming off of heroin.</p><p>There was a slight smile on him, this wasn't a drunken or drug-induced “meet-up” either, he’s been sober for five months now. </p><p>I raised an eyebrow with a questioning look; wondering what he wanted. </p><p>His finger swiped my bottom lip, I didn't pull back, that was mutual. I stared at his finger run across it a few more times, I was waiting for him to stick it in my mouth. My face began heating up knowing that what I wanted was coming. </p><p>“You think I'm gonna forget about the shit you do?”</p><p>I held onto his wrist stopping him. I stared up at him, slight anger coming into play, “what are you talking about?” I shook my head, trying to remember something I did. My mood was brought down completely.</p><p>He didn’t answer, he just stared at my hand over his wrist. Piecing it together, I knew that it wasn’t something that I had “done” but I knew what he was trying to get at. I wasn't going to deal with this right now. If it wasn’t a simple undress-me-and-fuck-me type of thing then I just wanted to sleep.</p><p>I got up but was quickly brought back down by him. I looked up at him with my mouth partially open and furrowed brows. Where the hell was this coming from? I didn’t know how to exactly react to this. Never had such an act been played out. </p><p>“No, sit down.” The smile was obviously gone and the look he had now was something I had never seen when dealing with me, ever. His fingers were digging into my shoulder. </p><p>“What the fuck,” I looked at his hand, “let go of me.” I shook his hand off me. </p><p>Arguing, that was another thing that was now added to us, it happened everywhere. </p><p>We made a lot of friends, in all ranges of “importance.” </p><p>“Only us two” turned into a group of others being constantly around and that was fine at first, there was still affection, slight hand holding under the table, but it was toned down as the months went by and the tours became longer.</p><p>The thing that did stand out was the arguing. We didn't care, we really had no shame about it. It wasn't anything about the thing we had, but other stuff, and I came to realize that we both became easily irritated around each other. </p><p>I never wanted him to start leaving though, but he did. It was a “temporary” thing, I always blamed myself for his absence around me, that's what led to my quietness.</p><p>Regardless of how much I always wanted to please him and do his bidding, it ticked me off when he would bring them up to me. Like now, and if I let it slide, it'll get worse.</p><p>“Don’t project the issues that you have with those bitches when you're with me.”</p><p>He smiled while leaning in closer, this time I backed away. “You think you compare to ‘em?”</p><p>I swallowed the new fear that he was invoking. I wanted to say things. I hated myself and the self loathing was a trait that never left but I knew that I was better for him than anyone. He wasn’t shallow, I know him more than anyone and this was just being said to get me angry. </p><p>“Lemme tell you something, fucker,” his hand pressed down over my shoulder again, this time pushing me up against the couch. </p><p>My breath hitched in my throat, my wide eyes stared at him. Things never got physical between us but this surely seemed like it was crossing a line. I didn't know what to say. Maybe I should've just stayed quiet.</p><p>“I go lookin' for the shit I don't get with you no more.”</p><p>In that moment – like my world falling apart around me, I realized that I could’ve been perceiving everything in an obscure manner or wrong. </p><p>It ticked like a clock and my skin started to crawl. I didn’t want to keep staring at him so I looked down at my knees. I wanted him to take his eyes off of me. Undoubtedly, it was the worst thing to hear. I couldn’t find the right emotion and crying didn’t seem like something that would favor me right now. </p><p>He let go of me while walking to the other side of the room. “You're such a fuckin’ bore,” he waved me off and it just added to my sinking feeling. The thought of: what was I still doing here? Was in my mind now. </p><p>This was the first time I had genuinely considered breaking the act that we had off. I couldn't do a solo career, I'd rather sit at home and get high, dwell in my own emotions than go and get what we both wanted so bad. </p><p>Why was this happening?</p><p>I heard him turn around. “The only reason I still fuck you is cause you let me come inside of you.”</p><p>That’s when that sadness carried a striking jolt of anger. I shot up, staring him down. “FUCK YOU!” </p><p>He just laughed while watching me stand there. This was amusing to him, he knew I wasn't going to do shit to him, he also didn't care anymore that he was hurting me.</p><p>I wasn't going to stop there and if the shit we do was going to die tonight, I was going to get my thoughts out of my head too. “You think they want you for you? How many of those hoes stick around when you relapse?”</p><p>“Or better yet when you're putting a gun to your head.”</p><p>I’d never seen anything like it before. It was so quick, one second he was across from me the next he was on top of me, his fists coming over my face.</p><p>From black to white my view was fusing in as it horribly outlined him, the blue of his eyes were clear to me. </p><p>The tears were there and I was yelling and trying to push him off of me. I always thought drugs would cut my life short, not him, not after something so meaningless. </p><p>I don't even remember him turning the water on. Why was the sink full? </p><p>There was a slight second, where he pulled me and dragged me by my hair towards the bathroom to where I was staring at the water in the sink. </p><p>Maybe there was a time gap where I was on the ground, chest violently raising up and down and my vision was static. </p><p>I wasn't sure. </p><p>The finger-numbing cold was at my tips, my mind tried to catch up with what was going on but it was like a bad signal.</p><p>I felt my shorts at my ankles now. I couldn't hear him but he was talking. I was cold and my lungs were tightening up but I didn't fight it.</p><p>The third part of me knew that he would leave me here. That was when things started to get drastic, I always hoped that they would never get worse but when fear started mixing in with the feelings I felt with him I knew that I was already in the worst.</p><p>I just wanted him… not like this, it never crossed my mind like this…</p><p>I came back up gasping for air and I stared at my eyes again, this time I was farther away from the mirror. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, in the middle of MY room. Somewhere in between my underwater memories, I tripped back into my recent nightmare.</p><p>The motel striped away into my room. It had to be some time in the evening. I looked towards the window, the sky was full of grey clouds and trees covered in snow. This was only a few weeks ago. </p><p>I had the worst feeling. </p><p>Footsteps came from the hallway, I quickly turned to look but I already knew who it was. </p><p>My eyebrows furrowed, a small smile came over me as I fell into something much lighter and better.</p><p>George stood at the doorway, “we don’t gotta do this, if you don’t want to,” he had a purple windbreaker on. There were still bits of snow over his shoulders as he stared at me. </p><p>His eyes were puffy and slightly red. It wasn't because of the snow, I could tell he had been crying.</p><p>I looked down at the carpet instead. The smile was gone as a grim reminder came back into my head, that and another one. </p><p>“No, I want to,” I shouldn’t be saying that. This was wrong, why was I so loose about it? Then again I needed this, the attention was so minimal. It’s almost as if I didn’t learn the first time… maybe that’s what I needed to do to get him back here again. </p><p>“Plus, you didn’t drive an hour just so I could pussy out.” Why was I stepping deeper into this? Scott wasn't here but at the same time he was, he didn't have to know about this but I needed to tell him already.</p><p>“Look, it’s cool with me if we just hang out, ya know? I don’t mind.” He was across from me now, leaning on the drawer that was in front of me. That gave me relief, I didn't have to see my reflection. </p><p>I looked up at him, “It’s all I’ve been thinking about, though.” I felt ashamed saying it, he was so much younger than me and he was much better at everything even this. At the same time my mind was so blank with what happened and torn over the tragedy. </p><p>“Does the age difference not bother you?” I asked lamely, as if he hadn’t thrown himself on me when we first met. I guess I just wanted to get my mind onto something else despite it falling into the same theme. </p><p>“No,” he slipped the purple windbreaker off. </p><p>My situation was concerning, I guess. I didn’t feel a certain type of way when he took off all of his clothes infront of me. There was a slight raise when he walked over to me, he pushed me onto the bed while getting on top of me. </p><p>My fingers gently came over his face as I pulled him down towards me so I could kiss him. </p><p>I had no expectations when it came to this. Despite saying that it was the only thing I thought about, I didn’t even know if that was genuine or not. It seemed like my thoughts were always on rotation and I could never settle for anything. </p><p>One thing was for sure, he couldn’t use me. </p><p>In one quick motion I pulled him off of me and pushed him on his stomach over the bed, his face in the pillow.</p><p>My palm pressing down on his back while I held him steady. He slightly turned to look at me, black eyes and a lip bite. I hated the way it made me feel. I wanted to destroy everything he gave me. I fucking hated him.</p><p>But this was fine, this gave me a sense of living. I could do this now with no hesitation. And yeah, there were certain motives or whatever the hell, it really didn’t fucking matter in that moment. </p><p>I was in the middle of the aisle facing the chips or something, I had no mind to acknowledge my surroundings. </p><p>I looked towards the right only to see Scott’s legs, I had no stomach to look at him in the eyes or his direction fully. </p><p>I pulled out my phone only to see a cruel reminder.</p><p>Can you text me back? </p><p>I know something’s up</p><p>I’m sorry if I did something wrong...</p><p>A shaky exhale escaped from me as my dead-eyed look watched my finger push the ‘block number.’ </p><p>“I shoulda been there,” He grabbed my arm only to wrap it around his shoulders and lean into my chest. I stared at him wondering if pillow talk was a good move for me. </p><p>“It's not your fault,” I looked at the doorway, wondering if there would be a point where Scott would see this. Other than that, I genuinely meant what I said, because it wasn’t George's fault. </p><p>“I just- I thought he was sleeping!” my mind went back to the video, vaguely seeing him on the black couch. George sniffled but the last thing I wanted was to console him. Even I felt slight anger towards him for recording it, despite it being an accident.</p><p>“You couldn't have known,” my hand brushed his hair lightly while quickly piling up whatever words were deemed as appropriate.</p><p>He grabbed my wrist, his thumb running over the “Cry Baby” tattoo, “Gus woulda loved this.”</p><p>He sat up and I could've imagined that it was his best friend in bed with me, the tattoos and the anorexia were missing. I always wanted to run my finger down his spine, I always wanted to lick his side; the indents of his ribs… I wanted to wrap my hands around his waist… </p><p>I wish I wasn't famous and he wasn't either, also alive. I wish we met and we fell in love and Scott, George and every other fucking person, never existed. Those were temporary thoughts of course.</p><p>George was close enough I guess.</p><p>Maybe that’s why he was here and not because of what happened at the beach. Maybe he was using me as well, just to get over his friend’s passing. I didn’t need proof of that, not that I would ever get it or care, regardless of whether the intentions are, we were both terrible people either way. </p><p>I rose up only to feel his skin over my chest, I kissed him gently on his shoulder and he leaned back into me. If I closed my eyes it could be true.</p><p>“I'm going back to London with Eric next week, some time back home will do us some good, do you wanna come?” I tensed up, my eyes opened as I stared at the mirror again, for a slight second I felt agony seeing George. I looked away while repeating his question in my head, part of me remembering not to go into this panic mode. </p><p>“Oh, uh, probably not, we still got to work on some songs,” I quickly managed to throw in an excuse.</p><p>He nodded, his fingers looped around mine.</p><p>“Can I ask you something, Aristos?” He sounded so unsure of himself, then the whole real name shit made my theory of him fall apart. There wasn’t time to rebuild an assumption. </p><p>“Yeah, anything.” I guess I just wasn't ready. </p><p>I, also now, knew that I was a terrible liar.</p><p>“Does he hurt you?”</p><p>Counting rotations and then my stomach fell into a pit when I saw Scott walking towards me, my reality building back up around me. I held onto whatever the hell I picked out randomly harder, the sound of the plastic sounded so minimal compared to his footsteps. My eyes stayed centered on his chest, his chains tucked and the sun tattoo on his neck stained permanently in my mind. </p><p>I wanted to talk to him like how we used to but now we were on different grounds and all I could do was play stupid. </p><p>“You get your shit?” His voice cut through every memory, thought and awkward position as I looked up at him. </p><p>“Yeah,” I cleared my throat; scratchy vocals, God, I hated it. </p><p>“Aight, let’s get the fuck outta here.” That wasn't too bad, he didn't seem angry. I stared at his back the whole time as we walked to the counter. </p><p>Maybe all he needed was some time away from me? He didn't ask why I took so long and usually he would be mad about that. He seemed so neutral. I also noticed that he kept his eye contact with me, for the second time.</p><p>We got up to the counter and placed our items while the guy working there rang everything up. I saw the way he would look at us then go back to the items. It wasn’t a welcoming look, far from. It wasn’t exactly hard to pinpoint the thoughts that were going through his head. </p><p>Never being fluent with societal norms, it drew unwanted attention and of course hate from a lot of people. </p><p>I knew that he was staring at the tattoos on Scott’s face. That made me angry, I wanted to tell him to piss off. At the same time, I wanted him to know that we were together, just so it could piss him off more. I wanted to kiss him on the cheek or hold his hand, maybe say something cute but public affection was a never.</p><p>Exiting out of the store was another worry but he waited for me and that made me feel a little bit better. Still, we were going back to isolation, just the two of us and his silence kept me dreading on what was to come.</p><p>I looked down as we walked side by side, I couldn’t get over the fact that he waited for me, it was a small act and maybe he didn’t even do it on purpose. </p><p>I had an urge to hold his hand but I held my actions, the entitlement definitely wasn’t there. </p><p>³••••••••</p><p>The rain started to fall again, it was a light pitter patter that was falling over the windows and my mind was loose, my body was falling to the side as I was nodding off.</p><p>I needed to keep myself busy, I also wanted to talk to him but I wasn't sure what to say. I knew things were a little bit better now, I could sense it.</p><p>There was a familiar song playing now and I started humming to it quietly; something that was mutual to do. </p><p>“Ruby's my favorite artist.” I remember when he said that on live. He was in his car listening to Opal Ring. </p><p>Or that one time when he fell asleep while listening to my part on Aokigahara, he genuinely enjoyed it.</p><p>I recited the next line, and probably not hitting those melodic notes but I had my own thing and he seemed to always like it. </p><p>He slowly turned to me, the diligence was missing as he quickly went back to the road. </p><p>I slowed down a bit, my face heating up with embarrassment. His hand reached for the off button and I stared at it blankly while I completely stopped. I wanted to melt away now.</p><p>I felt stale and drew back memories when I had a guitar and he would sit on the couch. I frowned while watching the rain fall. So things weren't fixed and possibly they were worse? </p><p>“Come a little closer,” there was a slight grin coming from him now. I tensed up knowing exactly what that meant. That attitude went away and there was something else present, something that was hard for me to accept. </p><p>I wanted to talk, I didn’t have the mindset to be doing other things, even if it was with him or maybe not without any substance in me. </p><p>I needed to bring something else up, “we can talk about something, how was Seattle?” </p><p>“No.”</p><p>“I- uh I don’t feel well.” </p><p>“Wasn’t asking.”</p><p>“Oh.” I fell into that skittish behavior; swallowing constantly, my fingers gripping and running alongside the white seatbelt. I wanted it off of me. That wretched thing pressed down on my chest as if it wanted to keep me in place. My legs felt cramped, the pink fluff from the seat started to irritate my exposed skin. All of this was just “heat” that enclosed my unstable self and despite the temperature in upper Fenwick it was leaving scabs on me. </p><p>I turned to my right, the trees were nothing but a blurred image. But, I needed that, I needed something to take my mind off of what was going on and maybe, bring something up, just to stir things into a different direction. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re going fast.” That didn’t strike up fear. It was more of a pointing-it-out kind of statement. </p><p>That pulse of hatred came back for a few seconds, I prayed that we would crash. </p><p>We both needed to die. </p><p>That was a thought to soak up. Our family, friends and fans would say something along the lines of “at least, they died together” or some pact bullshit. That wasn’t important… I never cared for their opinion on us. </p><p>Even if he died and I didn’t that would work out too. I wouldn’t waste time, I’d shoot myself right next to him. </p><p>If I only died… the fear of him forgetting me was outweighing my want. Yeah, I was tired of being on this earth, I just could never leave without him. I needed him to die, I could say it with no remorse. I was bent on that day, it was my reality. </p><p>And it seemed like he opted out of it as the years went by. That was wrong though. He couldn’t promise something like that and completely back out of it. </p><p>Sometimes, I wondered, if maybe it was I who was perceiving it in that way. He was still fucked up and those terrible thoughts never really left him. Still, I never asked him or even brought it up anymore, I was scared of what he was going to say. </p><p>And it isn’t only with that certain thing, I had to be careful with what I asked, normal conversations were cut short. Things between us went to shit. I couldn’t exactly pinpoint when the thought of not caring for his death arose. </p><p>Everyone used to say that we were attached to the hip, no matter where one of us went the other would always be there, and it was nice. There must’ve been a turning point for him, I picked it up early, despite being in denial in the first half of it. </p><p>It was unreal. </p><p>As if things couldn’t get worse. </p><p>I was new. Confident and assertive with the shit I did, especially around him. My arms always found their way around his neck. My place was like his, holding the same meaning.</p><p>But our image began to peak into something new… </p><p>He stood at the edge of the bed, my bedroom was the place. The time? 6 years ago (almost 7.) We hadn't seen each other in a while, I had just gotten home from doing some stuff, it was a week of being apart after working on music for a year or so. </p><p>“I wanna do things to you.” He came here uninvited, I wasn't complaining. </p><p>That was the initiation, the beginning of the prime.</p><p>“Yeah?” Lousy drugs and or my silk bomber jacket. I couldn't remember if he had it on or not and the reason as to why it was so important was because he wore it because he missed me. But with saturated lines and curving colors I was forgetful of how he looked that night. </p><p>I crushed the cigarette over the ashtray. “Fuck, what kinda shit?” A smile was over me as I leaned on the cold wall. </p><p>“Come over here.” There was always this unsaid thing about us, we knew what roles to play when it came to this. I obeyed and moved over to him only to sit in front of his tall figure; I stared up at him. Kind of like an instinct.</p><p>His tongue ran across his bottom lip, his eyes were dilated in terms of excitement. “Shit that'll mess you up,” his hand wrapped around the side of my neck. </p><p>“I'm already a troubled bitch.”</p><p>It was new, it was to die for. And like I had said that our image reached a certain peak — everything rots and we did as well, the thing we had was now lopsided, a single blow would tear us apart and the reform was a bitter never. </p><p>He said it was more of a stress reliever kinda thing. I wouldn’t have followed him everywhere if it was. I knew he said that stuff to piss me off. I know that it wasn't that for him, he truly loved me.</p><p>Fast forward 2 years later, the aggression and irritability crept up slowly, with a string of events spread around the months of the next 3 or so years. At one point those violent episodes were so close and prominent that things started to get out of hand. </p><p>I remember that awful night in Hawaii. We were there for a video shoot. And it was almost as if being violent was second nature to him… and maybe it was? Maybe I was never exposed to that version of him until that night at the shitty motel, where he almost killed me in the bathroom. Why was I surprised that this was an option? Or a recurring event at this point.</p><p>The hotel room was now completely dark and despite the heat from the weather, the sheets felt cold. Another tear slid down my face as I closed my eyes. His finger ran up and down my back slowly. </p><p>He was saying something, but my mind wasn't functioning properly to hear it.</p><p>He placed a small kiss on my shoulder, my whole body tensing up when his beard scratched over my skin lightly.</p><p>I sat up leaving his finger mid-air. A groan coming from him but that was the last thing that fazed me in that moment. </p><p>I was naked and I couldn't remember if I voluntarily took my clothes off or if he forced me into the bed after his violent outburst. I couldn't pinpoint it, and maybe it was obvious to anyone else but, it was routine to fuck afterward… I wanted it… it was terrible but I did. </p><p>He single handedly kept me there. I’m more than sure that his grip was harder than necessary but with the numbness, I could hardly feel a thing. </p><p>“You gon’ tell everyone what I did to you?” The highlights of his eyes stood out — destructive, how only when it's dark, I was able to say things with composure or without second guessing.</p><p>“No,” My breath hitched in my throat. “I love you.” I wanted to say things to him without a skittish behaviour or upset feelings but it was hard and I was trying on the regular.</p><p>“C’mere,” I laid back down, this time on his chest. He didn’t have to pull me towards him, I came on command. </p><p>It was casual to wonder, I always do. </p><p>How much longer do we have before he completely loses interest in me? </p><p>Does he have someone else? </p><p>Does he still love me? </p><p>Those questions circled my mind on the regular. </p><p>I just never knew that he did as well. I watched his chest rise slightly, my fingers ran down his tattooed chest. The way he asked me if I was gonna tell, there was a slight difference from a threat. Now that I think back on it, he always seemed to ask something similar to that after everything had calmed down.</p><p>Almost as if he needed reassurance that I was committed to him.</p><p>“I love you, too,” he mumbled. I dug my face into his chest, my tears wiped away by his skin, my heart feeling light when he remembered to say it too. </p><p>That's probably what kept his certainty high most times. I would be lost without him, he knew this. </p><p>“I made you.” He started to say that after every show, rolling a swisher and staring at me. His greedy hands pulling me onto his lap. </p><p>My view went from him, to anything hanging on the wall. </p><p>He never interacted with me when that would happen. Occasionally his hand would slip in between my thighs, rubbing gently but it would never lead to anything. </p><p>“I'd fuck you er'day if you had a pussy.” He'd laugh or blow the smoke into my face. I didn’t have any emotion (in those moments) to say or do a single thing, so I just sat there and took what he gave me. It was just routine and I was checking everything off mentally.</p><p>I came to believe that to him, I wasn’t even equivalent to the gold he sported on his neck and wrist. </p><p>I would always crawl into his bed as if I owed him something and I think I always have.</p><p>Then again, I thought it could’ve been the stress from producing the music or the withdrawals from his attempts on being sober. I always watched him place those patches over his skin, with his empty look as he stared at the sink. I would always kiss his forehead and hold him when he felt weak. I was there for him.</p><p>Or maybe it was when things really started to get out of control -- Berlin was the last place for the “Global Epidemic Tour.” London was our previous stop and it was the first time we met up with Gus.</p><p>That was the thing… Gus was something else, and Scott knew the way I felt about him, even if it was partial.</p><p>It had to be there, where more -- this time prominent hate towards me built up with him. A relationship in shambles and the distress was rising. I never knew how he felt other than angry or annoyed when I was around but I wondered if he was ever sad about us falling apart. There were times where I picked up certain things from him, it could’ve been anything, really. </p><p>It could’ve been anyone’s guess, I didn’t want to assume that those things I observed had to do with me. I was already down a rabbit hole and that would only drag me down further plus add some false hope. </p><p>Nights, I spent them crying or staring into a mirror, there were things around me (as usual) crushed-up pills, rolling paper and or vomit in the toilet, loneliness was the thing that was always there, even if any of the elements changed. </p><p>I was debilitated and he was never around to see it, not that he would care about it anyway. Backstage was where the pounding in my head became unbearable. Despite it happening everyday and the crawling of my soul, I stood up when I saw him across from me. </p><p>It was like watching a black screen, everything was nothing. Then he walked in with his late 80's and early 90's look. He was always so fashionable, yet, he had his own style. Walking with a sway of the hips and a limp wrist while speaking. I could watch him do anything, it didn't matter if it were something mundane or something vulgar.</p><p>It was like a trance and it really did make me question certain things at times. I hated how much power some stupid guy, that I never spoke to had over me. </p><p>It started with an instagram post, it was a picture of him in a club. He was wearing a mesh, long-sleeve top, with pink, dyed hair and black leather pants, it was a complete opposite from me and that made me want.</p><p>And like the neon lights that illuminated his body, it lit up my curiosity and that was rare… from more pictures of him, it went to his music, instantly, I was connected to it.</p><p>Admiration was only the bottom of it, lusting after him was at the very top — obsession was the term. </p><p>I fiddled around with a cigarette, I kept my eyes on him. Everyone was around and yet, he stood out. </p><p>“I’m here to perform with you guys!” That replayed in my head the whole night, no matter how crazy everything got on stage, how loud and active everything was. All I could do was stare at him in that skimpy, pink outfit as he sang to the crowd. </p><p>It was like being high, he showed up out of nowhere and my feelings for him were hardly containable. I had an idea, an idea that would gett my mind off of my current situation. I wasn’t sure if it was going to play out the way I wanted it to but I needed it desperately.</p><p>I held the mic tighter as my eyes went to his legs, I squinted trying to ease away from those thoughts right now. I was still in front of so many people, despite being in the dark. </p><p>Then, to ruin every single beautiful feeling inside of me came the chain-swinging, generic rapper, yet, there was a tinge of femininity in him too. Which made me wonder if that was the reason as to why they were a couple. They both sang into the mic, Tracy's arm around him. </p><p>I always theorized that he didn't care who he fucked, he would jump around from men to women, to three people to four. Until he “settled” for Tracy but that was a loose term. That was morbid of me, but vulgar and true for him, and I didnt want a pure bitch with a nice pussy, I wanted him. </p><p>My knuckles could always be lost in whatever color of hair he wanted to flaunt while his knees gave out. He would've been better in my lap than anyone else's. Fucking, drugged-up kid, we drew equals, not him and that other poser.</p><p>I always imagined us in a studio apartment; music playing quietly. He'd treat me like complete garbage. I always felt like that would be his attitude towards me, maybe it was the age difference that got my mind on that thought. </p><p>I could watch the way his back arched from the couch, his manicured hand over his dick as he made me watch him. </p><p>Second to that vulgar “portrayal” on the couch, was when Tracy — or Jazz, entered the room.</p><p>Jealousy peaked, undoubtedly, never ever had it left such a bitter taste in my mouth. I wasn’t expecting to feel that kinda stuff strongly but seeing it in front of me definitely took me by surprise. </p><p>He had him looped around his wrist, like a good luck charm hanging off it, he kept him around — preferably with his hands on Gus' waist as he led him to exposure and possibly some fake credibility. </p><p>Maybe. </p><p>I pulled the cigarette down, holding it harsher than I should. I shifted left on the couch. Eyes centered over the both of them. Jazz pulled him by his hips, they were inches apart. Jazz whispered something before kissing him and leaving the room. </p><p>I took another long drag, looking away. They were just opinions after all. I could sit here and theorize a new one, one that would be so outrageous, unreal, and my mind would still find some truth to it. I didn’t want to keep going with that mentality. </p><p>Everyone was scattered around now and the 15 or so people that were around here were gone now. </p><p>I stood up from the couch, the cigarette dead over the ashtray. I watched him speak to some other people but I never knew who they were nor did I care. I kept a plain feeling over me and the way I would jump into the conversation. </p><p>I wondered what it would be like if it were me instead of Jazz. Or something smaller: If I ever peaked his interests? </p><p>Maybe I needed what Scott gave me because it calmed me down from something I could well be. </p><p>But that didn't matter right now because we were in another country, Scott wasn't here and I was gonna live out my fantasy… even if there was no consent.</p><p>“Hey,” my unwelcoming figure morphed in between him and the two others. I never felt like I was imposing, despite being shy with people I’ve never spoken to. It didn’t really matter anyway, they were wrapping things up. I had no idea what it was that was being said or the emotions/actions coming from them, all I could focus on was him. </p><p>He turned to look at me, he was a lot taller than I. and I always knew that he would be, maybe by a few inches but it really seemed like he was towering over me. </p><p>Now that he was right in front of me, with his attention set on me as well, my thoughts/plans were jumbled up and the first step to it was complete but I was stuck on phase 1. I didn’t plan for my current behavior to shift or break but it was going down, and the fake front that was only played out in my head was dying inside of me. </p><p>His hair was purple and pink on one side, the other half, black. I swallowed any nervousness that eased out of me. I thought about how, because of him, I dyed half of my hair orange. I felt unoriginal at that moment almost as if he would call me out on it but he didn’t. </p><p>“Oh my gosh!” He smiled and it brought me a little bit of reassurance. There was always that possibility that he wouldn’t want to even speak to me.</p><p>My lips curled into a small smile, instantly feeling his positive energy. My second assumption was this one: a genuine soul that cared and loved too much. I didn’t need to hear it from other people, I knew it when I saw him. The negativity inside of me brought that first one to the top. </p><p>“I was about to come talk to you,” he lightly placed his hand over my shoulder. Immediately I became tense, I felt the heat over my body. I was surprised to hear that. It wasn’t exactly a good thing how he made me feel now, at least not for him, it only made me want to cut the talk and drug him. </p><p>I looked at him, his smile never left, was he waiting for my response? I didn’t even know what to say. I felt awkward but I noticed how he was slightly swaying, his eyes were red but his pupils were large, he was on something. But, was that really surprising? Maybe the fact that he was alone kind of was.</p><p>Now I thought about how much easier it was for me. </p><p>He slightly laughed before his other hand reached for my neck. I watched his finger lightly swipe the chain that was tucked into my shirt. </p><p>“Ooh, that’s real pretty,” he purred while leaning in closer to me. His eyes were fixed on it. Mine, over his figure, and it wasn’t the best angle, but his waist was more than appealing to me. A dainty, silver, chain link belt wrapped around it and even that was loose. </p><p>My hands found themselves holding onto his waist. The approval of my action was him leaning in a little more. He was cold, and I never thought about how he would feel. I always left that topic alone because I didn't want to ruin any expectation of it. </p><p>My hands wanted to run down his back but they stayed in place, knowing that it would be going too far. </p><p>I was beyond surprised that he even let me touch him. So quickly; with little ease, he truly was a loose person. </p><p>I could go anywhere from here, but his easiness wasn't going to cloud tonight's objective. I could, possibly, go further than a fuck, maybe even aim for something long-term.</p><p>“Yeah, you like it?” My half-lidded eyes stared up at him now. I just had to say the right things and the information that I got from others would make this a whole lot easier. </p><p>He nodded, he stared back at me. “You’re different from other people, you and your cousin.” </p><p>“What kinda different?” I knew what he was going to say, everyone says the same thing, the same dark-authentic-sound bullshit. How it was such a fucking contrast to what's popular and how underground was something we owned for a time. </p><p>But I wanted him to say it. </p><p>He placed his hands over my neck, a smug smile on his lips, he knew that I wanted it and he was willing to give it to me. “Your music, your style.” </p><p>“I love it,” he laid his head on my chest, an open palm over it too. I was slowly becoming debilitated and couldn't believe it was actually happening.</p><p>But still what he said: It gave me my recognition. And I knew — holding him in his swaying position — that everything I’ve ever done led up to this moment.</p><p>The way he clicked his tongue after saying it, his body so carefree in my arms, I know, too well what this act is.</p><p>Even if it was or wasn’t genuine — I couldn’t forget how he got to the top either, everyone always rumored it. And shit, if he wanted to ride my dick for some exposure, I wasn't going to stop him. That saved me from further (possible) ridicule. The chances of me getting to fuck him seemed high, but anything could happen, maybe even reading his actions wrong but that was something I doubted. </p><p>Regardless of how he was acting I was going to make it an official thing and give him the spiked liquor. This was my only chance at this.</p><p>Of course, there wasn't much I could say to his “compliment” I wasn't going to be self-absorbed even if his opinion was relevant to me.</p><p>“You want a drink?” My eyes stayed over his hair the whole time as I recounted those fantasies of my knuckles being dug or gripping it. </p><p>“Fuck yeah,” a wide smile and dark brown eyes looked at me; the way he instantly brightened up afterwards, almost as if he were greedy to get more things inside of him. </p><p>I felt my knees become weak at this point. The shine to his eyes kept me from doing anything irrational as I walked away from him and over to a counter where I had placed everything earlier. </p><p>I squinted at the red cups that I had just finished filling half way. Slouching over the counter I dug out the round, white pill and dropped it into the cup that was on the left side. I was quick about it, (smooth even) I always imagined that a “fuck-up” was around the corner while I watched the pill dissolve.</p><p>And maybe I was an awkward mess at one point of being over here. I stayed quiet hoping he didn't walk over. I slightly turned back to see him just standing there. I couldn't help but smile at how sad this actually was. </p><p>I grabbed the cups making sure to keep the spiked one on my left hand. He smiled, meeting me halfway as I handed it to him. He mumbled a quick 'thank you' before taking a small sip. </p><p>I watched hesitantly, wishing he took more but he didn't, instead he grabbed my hand. “Let’s go sit.” I stood there blankly trying to register how great this was. I quickly readjusted my shorts when he wasn't looking. </p><p>I wonder what he would think of me if he were sober? Then again was there even a moment where he was? It felt like this was his actual personality, forever. </p><p>He motioned me to sit down, at first I was a little confused but I sat down. I looked up at him wondering why he wasn't sitting down. Did he need something? </p><p>He grabbed my right arm, moving it out of his way slightly as he sat over my lap. </p><p>Shallow breaths wanted to escape and my panic mode was trying to start up but I settled down. He was so close to me now, almost as if he was tempting me? My hand was on his back now. I could easily do anything to him. Maybe he wanted that?</p><p>“Ari, that’s such a pretty name by the way.” There went that limp wrist thing I liked. A sheepish smile came onto me, I loved how he knew my name already, not only that but gave me a short version of it. Did I even have to try at this point? The only thing that was going to be hard was getting him out of here with no one watching. The room was already clear but the outside, who knows. </p><p>I put the cup to my lips realizing that I never really spoke with him. I feel like he knew that I wasn't someone who would say much and he didn't mind.</p><p>“What you guys doing when you done touring?” </p><p>“Probably just gonna go back home…” I shrugged, my hand inched down lower each time I spoke. I really had no shame while doing so, he didn't seem to care, part of me wanted him to, though. I wanted him to call me a pervert for what I was doing. They were just miniscule thoughts that came and went (maybe.)</p><p>“We should collab, oh my gosh! That would be so much fun!” He pulled out his phone and immediately started typing out something.</p><p>Every time he would move, his skirt would slightly go up. I could feel the heat of his skin pressing down on my leg.</p><p>I dismissed what he said with a smile and a nod. The idea was nice but that wasn't on my mind. Instead I wanted to know what he was wearing under his skirt. The thought made me want to go crazy, like acid tremors my teeth wanted to grind uncomfortably.</p><p>I had other things too, and with my racing mind, my greedy hands could bend him over the table and pull his skirt down… But that was too risky and stupid of me to do if I played that out. Anyone could walk in or what if they heard him yell?</p><p>I didn't want to fuck him in the bathroom, no, I needed to live my fantasy out in a motel room, preferably some where far from here. No one would suspect a thing, knowing how he is and how his “friends” left him here. Who are they going to believe? I'm sober and he's about to pass out.</p><p>“I didn’t ask your cousin.” That brought me out of my thoughts, my eyes going wide when I saw the cup on the table. When the hell did he put it down? It looked full… How was I going to get him to drink it? </p><p>My mind immediately went back to what he literally just said about forgetting to ask Scott something, “huh?”</p><p>“He into threesomes?” I completely stopped, my hand readjusted onto the middle of his back. Was he trying to get to Scott? Is that why he was acting like this towards me?! Fucking whore.</p><p>“He’s not really into dudes, y’know?” I took a sip of my cup but that shit hit harder this time as it burned my throat.</p><p>“Aww,” he frowned, pulling himself into my neck. “That sucks.”</p><p>I kissed my teeth, was this Lil' bitch indecisive? Didn't he just ask about Scott? Now he was back to clinging onto me? I didn't exactly know if I could do this now if he was still conscious, earlier I could but now I needed him to be blanked out. There was no way that I was putting my dick in him like that. </p><p>Anyway, if we're here, just asking questions, Imma throw one out that's been bugging me. “Aren’t you and Jazz-” </p><p>He backed away only to look me in my eyes, “we’re soulmates,” he pitched in quickly with a grin, nodding slightly. </p><p>“I mean,” he put his hand on my knee, I stared at his long pink nails. Was he trying to come onto me or not?</p><p>“Isn't he just so handsome?” He asked as if he were here or if he showed me a picture of him. I thought back to him and how he looked, clearly not my type. I also thought about what he would do if he found us like this? Would he care? Was this normal to them? What if he did care? He’d probably beat me up. Then again, from what I’ve heard, he’s on his own thing. </p><p>Were they even a genuine couple? Or was it just for the internet? Gus seemed to be in love, especially with the way that he speaks of him. I could say the same thing about Jazz, the energy they both gave off when they were both together was prominent and you couldn’t ignore it.</p><p>Soul mates, he said. So why was he here? Dragging on me like a whore, figure poised on my lap with salacious advances. His actions were causing vulgarity, while what he was saying was falling into a respectful relationship.</p><p>“I mean, yeah,” I chipped in, almost forgetting that he had asked that. What more was I supposed to say to that? I shrugged it off. </p><p>My eyes outlined the red cup on the table. This could’ve gone differently but he was so caught up with speaking. I felt hopelessness and a pinch of anxiety seeing the cup neglected.</p><p>“You guys doing anything this weekend?” He turned his phone off, it seemed like he wanted a genuine answer. I didn't want my jealousy to show and it really seemed like he didn't get it the first time that Scott wasn't into dudes. It pained me that he mentioned the both of us and not just me.</p><p>I wasn’t in a good mood anymore, “No...” and it really was evident that I was like a stepping stone to him so he could fuck Scott. </p><p>“You should come hang out with my friends, bring your cousin too.” That ruined me.</p><p>“Bet, we'll be there,” I forced a smile and he gave me one before going back to his phone. I wasn't going to show up, clearly, nor would I ever tell Scott about it.</p><p>Why not me? I was perfect for him… we were more alike than anyone that was in this room earlier. And as if Scott would give him the time of day, he admitted to me that he was grossed out when he first saw him. What he was saying made me want to frown but I couldn’t let it show now.</p><p>I kept my view at the door, wondering if he would ever get to drinking that shit. It was getting late, I was never considered “fun” and I could feel the disinterest in him piling up and hitting me like a punch to the gut. Especially now that he knew Scott wouldn't be interested.</p><p>I didn’t even know what to bring up now. All I knew was that my chances were dwindling away. I wanted to make him pay for the shit feelings he invoked in me tonight. I desperately thought of another way to get him to come with me.</p><p>Then, I saw him; not even a second before entering he had a shocked expression. </p><p>What the fuck? </p><p>Like another replica of the goth scene. Leathered out with bleached messy hair. He wasn't anything new and definitely out shined by Gus. </p><p>What the hell was his name? I've seen him around Gus before, performing and in pictures but I couldn’t remember what his name was. He had a tight black choker on and saddened eyes now as he walked into the room. </p><p>I looked back at Gus, who as of now stared at him with an unsettled look, hands gripping his phone as they rested over his lap.</p><p>He quickly got off of me. “I'll send you the address, Bex, will really appreciate it if you came,” he quickly added in and it made me question it. I wanted to grab him by his waist and just force him into my car but there was no way now.</p><p>I didn’t even reply as I watched Gus walk towards him. Bex… Bexey! Right, that was his stupid name. </p><p>Gus put his hand on his shoulder and Bexey just stared at him frowning. They didn't say anything but Gus slightly nudged him towards the exit.</p><p>What the hell was that? Were they together? Why was that pussy so fucking upset?</p><p>I ran a hand down my face, the feeling of failure and embarrassment wasn't going to leave any time soon. </p><p>I got up while grabbing the cup and taking it to a plant that was at the corner of the room. </p><p>I poured it out slowly. What a waste.</p><p>“You know it’ll die with that?” </p><p>I quickly turned around “Huh?” I didn't recognize the voice especially because it had a British accent garnished over it. Bexey was standing behind me, his eyes over the plant. </p><p>“Just kidding,” he stepped closer, his fingers holding a leaf. “Synthetic,” he turned to look at me with a smile. </p><p>I squinted before looking at the plastic he held in between his fingers. </p><p>“Oh, yeah,” I half-heartedly mouthed out. What was he doing here? Wasn't he upset a few minutes ago?</p><p>“You do that a lot?” He pointed at the cup. His fingernails were painted black — like mine. There was eyeliner on him too. Now that he was closer to me and in the light I could see him better. He had a strong jawline and a short, skinny build but nothing compared to Gus who was practically showing ribs.</p><p>There was a slight similarity, the way he carried himself but not in every aspect, he seemed more reserved, more calm and polite, was it the accent? </p><p>“Um.” Admittedly, it was kind of odd to do that, and not only that, but the questions it could raise. It shoulda been pretty obvious but I had to remember who I was dealing with and I knew these kids weren’t that smart. </p><p>He was so amused as well. “No, no, I was just leaving, don’t want anyone tasting vomit.” There was really no emotion in my voice while I spoke and I was hoping that he would get a clue.</p><p>“Oh,” he nodded while looking away, this time his mood switched. He dug his hands into his leather jacket while pursing his lips. </p><p>What was I supposed to do now? </p><p>“Well, I'mma go,” I shifted awkwardly at the same time I was trying not to bump into him as I walked around him. I wasn’t sure why he had to be so close to me. </p><p>“Alright,” he nodded. He watched my every move and I felt the need to ask what? But it never left my mouth. </p><p>I was almost gone but slightly turned around when I heard, “are you coming to the beach?” A hand on the back of his head and his other pointed at me. I turned to face him entirely. </p><p>He was so nervous around me and I'd be lying if I said that it didn't peak my interest to know why. </p><p>“Uh, yeah, I think I’ll go.” I shrugged. I mean, I could possibly still have a chance with Gus.</p><p>“Cool,” he smiled. “I’ll see you there.” </p><p>⁴✓✓✓✓✓</p><p>With definitely no morality; there was no shame in coming. Staring at Gus on a Friday evening -- The address had been sitting on my phone’s GPS for nearly two days. Those two days (I wasn’t entirely sure) were somewhat crucial to the version I was today.</p><p>In those two days, I never heard from Scott. I wasn’t worried about him, I knew he was fine. He just didn’t have the time to check in apparently. Any other week, any other day I would’ve freaked. I was the epitome of clinginess regardless of the bad rep between us at times. </p><p>But I had priorities now. I realized, with his absence, this was like a blind spot, these days, my thoughts, even my actions. Something that would be lost in time and he would never know that it even existed. </p><p>I was going to get what I was set out for. The night in the back room, it wasn’t a fail… it was more of a practice round. Now I knew how I should be acting, what to say, Gus invited me back because there was a tinge of interest in me. </p><p>George was another thing, an entire thought that could make me theorize for hours in these last few days. They both wanted me to fuck them… Wasn't that it? </p><p>Had to be. Potentially, with the way he acted around me, I wasn't stupid. Yet, attention on him was limited, if I wasn't ducking on the way he emerged that night, I’m sure there would’ve been a thing between us, maybe even for a while.</p><p>I thought they would be the two (connected) dark, looming figures that drew me into a spiral of further self-destruction. But like my theory and the metaphorical chain that kept them together, it was broken.</p><p>Friday evening, the place? Mirror Coast; outskirts of London.</p><p>I showed up around late afternoon, not being too early but not a second late. I brought my dead personality, those bad traits still attached of course; not any more than what it usually was. I was hungry for that certain “fling” that my mind garnered up. </p><p>The scenarios were generated in my head day and night, shower tiles or empty wine glasses could destroy them and build them back up with little effort. They were all different, the labels on them were the same, my feelings for them were the same and I wasn't talking about bland shit. </p><p>Gus was the first person I saw there; wet body with patches of sand on his legs. He hugged me as if I were some old acquaintance at the door. </p><p>It was the second time my hands were on his waist. That was like a milestone to me. </p><p>His chest pressed into mine — he whispered something. I couldn't take it in, I was too busy wishing I wasn't wearing any clothes. </p><p>We went inside after a brief conversation.</p><p>And maybe it was wrong to classify it as a “conversation.” </p><p>Slurred words, half-naked, what an imposing figure. There was a tiny wave of sadness. Part of me wanted him to greet me in some other form, that was the thought of being formal or whatever the hell was ethical. A good morality was clearly not for me, even if I would ever want that, I was looking for it in the wrong place. </p><p>I stared at his spine as I walked behind him, my eyes lowered as I watched how he walked with his hips swaying a bit. </p><p>Yeah, this was gonna be a good night.</p><p>“Heyyyyy!” </p><p>I stopped. I didn’t want to recognize the voice, even though I never even spoke to him and he was somewhat forgettable, I instantly knew who it was. </p><p>I turned to look at Jazz. He was smiling, eyes hidden behind heart-shaped sunglasses. He was wearing a partially unbuttoned pink, silk dress shirt, with white pants. His dreads pulled back into small pigtails. </p><p>It was odd since I didn’t find the taste appealing with what he was sporting. It was just new to me, then again, maybe it was because I didn’t like Jazz at all. Gus wore things that were somewhat similar or more out there and I never had a feeling of disgust. </p><p>He pulled me into a hug and I was confused with his kindness towards me.<br/>
Had he not just seen me checking out Gus? Maybe he was okay with it? I wasn’t going to take my chances and I knew that everything was starting to fall apart the moment I heard him. </p><p>“Yo, your cousin didn’t come?” He was still smiling, I stared at him but he looked behind me as if Scott would be hiding in the back of me or some shit. </p><p>That was a tipping point that only led me down a mood of pure irritability and jealousy.</p><p>So, that threesome thing was between these two and Scott? And I was thrown to the side.</p><p>I knew Scott’s opinion on these people, regardless, he would still accept joining in just to get at me. I was glad that he wasn’t around, even more that he will never know about this. </p><p>“No, he couldn’t make it,” I threw in, at the same time I try not to sound like my mood had shifted. </p><p>“That’s fine.” He stepped back, Gus came up towards him, finding his place right under Jazz’s arm.</p><p>I realized now why he hadn’t seen me looking at Gus and why he had the glasses on — or maybe it was just for aesthetic reasons. That seemed more likely since these kids were drugged-up most of the time. </p><p>Regardless of the irrelevant observations, this is where it began and the destruction of my night was pin-pointed. I was desperate for something that would take my mind off of it. </p><p>My luck was always gone at the wrong times, 15-minutes of a disgraceful conversation that led to me sitting on the couch and the both of them, across from me.</p><p>They weren’t even talking to me anymore. My phone was in my hand but my eyes were on them.</p><p>“Snort another line for me, baby,” Jazz laughed while leaning back into the couch. Gus was bent over the table, his face all over the glass. I didn’t know how to feel seeing that.</p><p>I looked down at my phone for a distraction but their laughter was making it hard to live. </p><p>I watched Gus sit on his lap, he laughed lightly while doing so. Jazz held onto his hips immediately. He seemed greedy to me, I kissed my teeth and looked down. </p><p>The hate was flaming up on my back, my face, surely, a tone darker. Wide eyes stared down at the carpet. I didn’t want my nails to scratch over the leather couch, I couldn’t leave any evidence of what was going on with me. </p><p>They both kissed as if I wasn't even present. I wish the exaggeration of it were something untrue but it was literal dry-humping when Gus started snorting the coke off the table, to them fucking on the couch now. And hearing it was breaking me. </p><p>They really were shameless.</p><p>And I almost hated vulgarity. </p><p>That was hypocritical of me. </p><p>What was I doing here? </p><p>That striking fear was back, and I was at the fucking ledge of dipping into an episode of, well, something! I didn’t know. Everything was the same but there was no meaning and whatever was about to erupt of me wasn’t going to be good. </p><p>There was a slight rumble in my stomach, and heaviness in my chest. I knew what was next. I wouldn’t bother leaving in a hurry. They wouldn’t question any version of my absence. </p><p>I stood up before I threw up all over myself, that would be unforgettable, laughable. </p><p>I thought about going back home at this point. I stepped away from the living room. I should've done it.</p><p>Despite being away from them I could still hear them clearly. I sighed while searching for my escape, and the exit or entrance wasn’t saved in my head since I was distracted when we came in here. </p><p>I didn’t even hear a single sound around me, but I gasped when I felt someone wrap their hand around my wrist. I quickly looked down, I already knew who this was. </p><p>Was I grateful? Maybe a little, he could tell me where the exit was, then again I knew that he didn’t have that in mind. </p><p>He was smiling, his hair was fixed and there was no eyeliner this time around. </p><p>“C'mon you don't wanna see that,” he shook his head slightly before guiding me towards the entrance. I followed him wordlessly. It’s almost as if he knew that I was looking for it, but still he wasn’t taking me out to my car. </p><p>At this point, I honestly didn’t care anymore. </p><p>It wasn’t really confusion or shock, I was in the state of letting anything happen after seeing something damaging -- in other words this was my distraction.</p><p>I stared at George from behind, no real emotion tying to me as the sound of the waves came into the air and the breeze was light.</p><p>“Trust me, they don't care who's around.” We walked down the stairs and stopped not far from where the water was.</p><p>“They've fucked in front of me five times already.”</p><p>Salt to my injury? Fuck yeah. </p><p>I squinted and the view in front of me shifted into an undefiable/blended picture, the pitch black water morphed into the dark sky and I didn’t know where to fit in it. </p><p>That was the anxiety telling me that I should’ve never came because I was just an outsider to these people. And what more proof did I need after what happened? The insecurity of feeling old around them was definitely higher now. </p><p>Why did I even come? Why couldn’t I just live those things out in my dreams? And why the hell had he seen them fuck five times? If he was so pressed about it. For that matter why would he even keep track of it? </p><p>It seems like everywhere I went, negative things would always be mutual. </p><p>It was beyond bold of me to assume any of those things would happen. That was only a fantasy and my hopes were set in space. The reality was this one and I was convinced that it was one-in-a-million for those things to actually happen.</p><p>He sat down sighing and I joined him too. I stared at the sand but it was like static in the darkness. </p><p>“My best friend's a drugged-up, mindless, punkstar, his boyfriend? Who doesn't know him.”</p><p>I was angry, my thoughts mixed in with his words. What was he? Venting to me? I watched the one thing that could get me out of my distressed state get fucked in front of me.</p><p>I drew lines into the sand. Was there even a reason for being here anymore? </p><p>“I feel so invisible most times.”</p><p>I still had him… it wouldn't come close and the word failure was brewing in my head. He was okay with my quietness. That was something to like, I guess. People bitched about that to me most times and or feeling like a circus act in general. I didn’t really care how he saw me anyway; good or bad.</p><p>“Then, I realized how great individuality is, I'm not tied to them.” </p><p>I really had no other thing to say because that may sound like it was appealing but I was on the other side of the board when it came to that. But instead of shriveling up or saying my opinion on it I throw in something I saw him do. </p><p>“Yeah, I saw you eat those bible pages.” Which yeah, that was that certain “individuality” that got him doing whatever he wanted.</p><p>He hesitated before looking over at me and wanting to laugh. I smiled lightly because it was pretty stupid.</p><p>“That's what I'm telling you about,” he brought his knees up to his chest, he sounded sad but he looked pretty like that.  </p><p>“I can do whatever I want.”</p><p>“I can go wherever I want.”</p><p>My breath became fucked up each time I ran my palm over the sand, as if my breath were literal pieces of foam that were cut up out of nowhere, all so they could fall into my chest and expand. And the grains of the sand over my stagnant palm were thumbtacks. That satisfying feel was gone.</p><p>I could take this in so many ways. He was an actual representation of the things I felt some nights. I was unsure if that was even right, though. I wanted to relate to him, not silently. But it was hard now that my mood had been driven to something sour with what happened. </p><p>Part of me wasn’t even sure of what I was saying but I was speaking and he was finding it appealing. </p><p>He was up, then I was up as well. My mind was drifting aimlessly, my body could do anything right now. </p><p>“Yeah.” I found it, somewhere in between his smile and my moment of stripping down to my boxers.</p><p>A delusion was probably wrapped around the way I was acting. And that was okay? As long as I got something from this night and coming here wasn't a total mistake.</p><p>I wasn't fully aware of how much dignity I lost over the years, clearly. This wasn't commitment, it felt like, with Gus I would've done anything without worry but with George I was so fucked up, I was scared even if we were just having fun.</p><p>“C'mon!” He ran into the water with no hesitation. He left a trail of footprints to lead me down when I made my own way into those murky depths.</p><p>I walked closer, each step turning colder under me as I reached the water. I could hardly make out his figure in the moving water. </p><p>Fuck, of course he was used to this. I was already shaking and my feet were barely touching the water. </p><p>I took a risk and went all in, knowing that if I hadn't done it then I would've been stuck standing for hours.</p><p>I was fully submerged, it was an immediate shock and my chest started to tighten up, it felt like my breath was being taken away from me. </p><p>I swam over to him and he was just smiling. I can't believe I was doing this.</p><p>I swear I saw someone in the water. I squinted while looking again but the waves got in the way.</p><p>I turned to him, “you said no one's out here?” </p><p>“yep, we're alone for miles,” he raised his arms up as if that helped. </p><p>I mumbled an ‘alright.’ I swam a little towards the other side where he was at and far from where I saw something.</p><p>I stared down at the water, I could hardly make it out. It was a deep blue almost black up close. The waves started to move me around as the wind picked up. </p><p>I looked over at him concerned. He just swam around in small circles as if it wasn't affecting him. </p><p>I tried to swim  over to him, maybe the current was different where he swam? Or was it that he was used to this kind of thing? He did grow up around here.</p><p>I tried to make my way over to him but the waves were getting out of control. </p><p>I looked up, I only had a few seconds and in that time the figure was closer to me. I knew someone was out here with us. A wave came crashing down over me as it pulled me deep into the water. </p><p>Zipping his pants back up; I saw it up close. The Florida heat was intense and the pain in my knees was surely going to leave scabs. My head was spinning as tears formed. </p><p>My hands were on his thighs supporting my position. I felt his hand come over my head, my heart started racing and instead of it being for a good reason it was something much worse. </p><p>I didn’t know to what degree of “bad” it was going to be but I knew there was nothing desirable coming from it. </p><p>That was tragic, these last few weeks I felt so alone. I needed affection from him and it was to the point of being desperate for it. I could never ask for those things up until last year. The pace of — well, living became fast. </p><p>Living like a minimalist, I found that the certain things that I wanted, came around so scarcely and unanticipated. </p><p>I looked at the sunlight coming in through a small opening. I didn't even know where we were at? He brought me here. It was behind something. </p><p>Lurking and pulling an unsuspecting version of me back into him. With his gentle, soothing voice, “it’ll be quick, promise.” I could see right through it; what was really at the end of that honey-like voice. His claws gripping into my hip bone and filling me with false hope and dread.</p><p>We’d get there—the place of his choosing. This time around I couldn’t take in the details or where the location was. Excitement, maybe on his behalf. That’s how his hands seemed to be when they pushed me down.</p><p>Was it living on the edge? I don’t know. Affection was replaced with aggression and I settled for it. </p><p>I wanted to lean into him but it wasn’t the right time nor the right place. </p><p>“I ain't gonna hit it cause you suck.” Through my thick eyelashes I slowly looked up, blue eyes and a tilted head stared back at me. </p><p>His appearance changed, that was something that stuck with me as well. It was like he picked up a new attitude or something along the lines of that. </p><p>There was definitely a sense of superiority, I wasn’t sure if it was just around me or everyone else too. There were moments where it seemed like he was too important for the people that were around him or maybe it was because he was easily irritated. Then again, most of the time, the issue seemed to be towards me only. </p><p>“Don't forget who's shit you suckin'.” The remarks were always similar, only this time it actually started to hurt again. He was good at making me feel like I would completely whore myself out to everyone.<br/>
My heart was strained but could he really blame me for not being fully concentrated? I was missing him, not this. </p><p>He pushed me onto the pavement and I didn't do a thing. </p><p>“Get the fuck up, don't want Kevin to see you like this.” </p><p>I quickly got back up and dusted myself off. I had a few minutes alone before he called out for me. I walked over to him while adjusting my hat, I couldn’t remember if there was anything “incriminating” on me. It was too late now anyway. </p><p>Kevin was running up to us and I met him half-way. He wrapped his arms around me pulling me into a hug. I smiled while pressing my face into him. </p><p>We were here to spend the weekend with him and some other people. Maybe we could fix things between us during this week, we haven't done much stuff together in our free time. </p><p>Being around our friends always seemed to bring the best out of the both of us. Even if it wasn't for him this time around, I knew that it was for me.</p><p>It was such a revival being around someone who we were practically broke with. Now he was doing his own thing with Nick and the others. It was good to see how far they got as well. </p><p>Real friends like him hardly ever came around. My shitty mood was already lightening up. I really needed positivity around me.</p><p>“I missed you,” I didn't want to cry but my voice cracked part way.</p><p>“I missed you too, Ari.” His soft voice made me smile as he held me tighter.</p><p>I found so much comfort in him and I didn't want to let go. He felt like home and I wanted to tell him all the shit that I’ve been going through, he was always someone I could rely on but I couldn't tell him this certain thing and that's what was fucked up about it. I was limited with certain people.</p><p>I stepped back a small smile on my face and his too. I looked over at Scott, everything, like my shitty mood was ready to go away but his face was far from happy. Maybe I shouldn't have done it so long. </p><p>Kevin saw the way Scott was staring with disapprovement. He reacted so naturally to it, why? His irritability with me was known by everyone but this was kind of far. </p><p>“C’mon, I’m parked over here.” He didn’t seem to care, his vibe wasn’t knocked down, even a bit. I started to realize why that was. </p><p>I looked at Scott, slowing my pace; not wanting to walk right by their side. The heat became unbearable, my skin was now crawling from it, and that bitter motive that was being played out in front of me.</p><p>There was definitely a conversation between the both of them before this. I don’t blame Kevin, I never blamed the receiver of that made-up bullshit. </p><p>We followed him down the parking lot, I still stayed my distance from both of them. This was already starting to become the opposite of what I wanted. </p><p>I hopped in the backseat hoping for some alone time. I dropped the bags onto the floor while pulling the seat belt over me. </p><p>I stared out the window, the sky was pink now and I couldn’t remember the streets of Sarasota. I tried to remember what I knew from years ago: the estimate of the drive to Kevin’s house.</p><p>I heard the door open from the left side. I stared wide-eyed at Scott who was now climbing into the backseat with me. </p><p>Why the hell was he doing that?</p><p>I slightly groaned hoping he didn’t hear but he probably had. I looked out the window as we pulled out of the parking lot. </p><p>The drive had been quiet, there was hardly any speaking through it. As always, Scott was staring at me, phone in his hand, as if I didn’t catch those stupid glances. </p><p>“Ari, you still living in that one house?” </p><p>He stared at my knees for a split second before looking back at the street. I shifted in my seat. I looked over at Scott who was staring at me and saw the whole thing, “Fuckin' idiot,” he mouthed out.</p><p>I grabbed my bag and placed it over my lap. He looked out the window now, his hand on his forehead. I frowned wishing I had been smarter about those stupid marks.</p><p>“Yeah, you definitely gotta come around,” I looked over at Kevin, ignoring Scott.</p><p>“I'mma take you up on that, It's been a while since I've been there.” A vague memory came back up of when we hung out at my place for a month straight. It was so long ago, plus everything that had happened since, it was definitely time for another one of those months. </p><p>I knew Kevin was remembering about it too since he was smiling now. </p><p>I heard Scott groan and my mood shifted from happy to fear of a situation that could get out of control. I looked at him with a concerned look. He wanted me to stop talking. Was I annoying him? </p><p>I knew it wasn’t those stupid migraines and I couldn’t help but feel like he was being a complete dick right now, I don’t care how he treated me but Kevin shouldn’t have to deal with this. </p><p>I stayed quiet for another 10 minutes or so, my patience was growing thinner with the ride. They picked up a conversation, it was on and off but I decided not to say a thing.</p><p>I stared down, my fingers fiddling with my phone and not paying attention to anything that was being said by them. </p><p>“Why weren’t you there?” That came in, maybe because it was a question. </p><p>“Ari?” Then my name being called made me pay full attention to the conversation.</p><p>“Um, what?” a quiet reply came from me as I quickly looked at Kevin. What was he asking? I was about to apologize and ask him to repeat the question.</p><p>“Cause Ruby does whatever he wants,” we both looked at each other and he gave me that look as if he were saying “Isn’t that right?”</p><p>I looked down at my legs. Swallowing but it wasn’t enough to get me to process what he was doing right now.</p><p>What the hell was he doing?</p><p>“He really has no morals or boundaries.” I was driven down into my shitty feeling now, what did he want from this? Was he mad about what happened earlier? </p><p>“It’s alright.” There was a nervous laugh coming from Kevin and I could immediately sense that he wanted to stray away from us now.</p><p>I wanted to say something but that would make things worse so I just turned to look out the window.</p><p>It was another grueling 5 minutes before we finally pulled up to the driveway. Yet, it came with relief, there was pure silence and no more remarks to add. </p><p>And maybe there wasn’t that reaction from Kevin because of what I realized earlier. Now it was beyond obvious that Scott had “vented” to him about me.</p><p>I wasn’t sure how to feel, unwelcome or pretend that I didn’t figure it out? Still, I was seen as the opposing person. </p><p>Scott spoke up first, after the long silence between all of us, “I gotta make a call.” He was staring at me when he said that but I didn’t acknowledge him as I gathered my things ready to hop out and follow Kevin inside. </p><p>“Alright, I gotta show y’all some shit right now,” he didn’t turn to look at us but he still had a wide smile as he practically ran out.</p><p>And that was my cue.</p><p>Bags in hand and one foot already out the door, but that was cut short when I felt his grip on the collar of my shirt.</p><p>I stopped, obviously. My stare on Kevin dropped when he walked inside. </p><p>“You’re not going with him.” At least Kevin wasn’t here to see this. </p><p>“What’s wrong?” I raised an eyebrow while adjusting myself so I was facing him now. Was it the knee thing? It was stupid of me but I'm pretty sure Kevin doesn't care. He's seen worse from me.</p><p>“Really, bitch? What’s wrong?” He mimicked my voice making it high pitched. It left me nervous and unsure of what to say. </p><p>The anger wasn't willing to settle if I didn't fix this right now. He also knew that he couldn't do much to me in the car or for the next week but after that, there's no telling what could happen.</p><p>“Why don't you just fuck all of my friends?” He dug his face into his hands, his posture slumped making his words muffled.</p><p>Where the hell was he bringing this up from? Was there something that I said that was even relevant to such a thing? “What the hell are you talking about?”</p><p>He quickly looked back at me, his jaw clenched with angry brows. “Inviting Kevin to stay with you?” </p><p>“He’s my friend too, and I didn’t mean it like that.” The thought never came into my mind, ever.</p><p>“He’s married, Scott.” </p><p>“You’d find a way to get in between anyone.” </p><p>He looked away, his tone quiet, “imagine if I left you alone.”</p><p>“All the trouble you'd get into,” he said it almost as if he was imagining a hundred scenarios in his head.</p><p>He turned to look at me, every excessive feeling subsided. Half-lidded eyes and a slight smile, “you ain't wanna know the things I'd do to you, kid.”</p><p>I took a sharp inhale before looking down and frowning.</p><p>“Get that fuckin’ look off you before we get in there, aight?” </p><p>I only nodded.</p><p>He pulled himself closer to me, our knees touching. His hand came up to my face, there was a soft expression on him even though I wasn’t directly looking up I could sense the shift of energy from him.</p><p>His hand pulled my hair behind my ear, “you’re so pretty.” It was practically breathless, the way he said it and it made my heart pound in my chest. </p><p>He leaned closer into me — what would Kevin say if he saw this? I wasn’t fully engaged in what was going on, but with the heat of his breath on my neck plus his hand over my knee, I could easily turn this into something else.</p><p>He breathed out causing me to shiver, he knew what he was doing. There was a smile now, “they’d ruin you, you know that?” </p><p>“I know.” I kept my blank stare, even when he moved away to get out of the car.</p><p>How sure of that was he?</p><p>Uneasy temperament with black waves. Crashing and splashing around us. He would laugh and I would smile. He would talk about something and I would hardly answer. </p><p>Somewhere in between catching my breath and him diving under the pitch-black ocean, I lost my motivation.</p><p>“Your hair looks cool when it's wet.” He was a few feet apart from me when he said that but I could've been anywhere in the world and I still wouldn't care.</p><p>The moonlight was reaching down from a small patch of a clouded sky. It glistened over the waves' peaks, like a sequence being shined under a moving light.</p><p>He swam over to me, I could've never known that he was smiling. His narrative is the bleached hair strands, the way the water droplets dripped from the tips and ran down his face, I watched them and they were the only reason I knew how he looked. </p><p>Dishonesty was the thing that grew around me when being with others, and it really did seem like I was in training for these last months and tonight was my perfect presentation — “Yeah, it was fun.” what was he talking about anyway? </p><p>What he wanted from me was a staple question to the night. I was here for his best friend but he didn't want me because George wanted me? I could have pieced it in other ways but this seemed like it was the logical answer. Maybe that's why my mood had drastically changed. </p><p>We swam back, my mind was blank and I lost the actual want for anything.</p><p>“Whoa,” he stepped closer to me, his shirt over his head. </p><p>My eyes went wide, as I realized that I probably shouldn't have been taking off my shirt, but it was too late.</p><p>“What's that from?” His finger ran down my rib lightly. </p><p>I was stale until he reached the purple patch over my side. My breath hitched as I backed up, “why would you touch it?” I tried to suppress a laugh, finding it so foolish to do that. </p><p>He looked up at me with a sorry type of expression, “My bad,” his British accent really seeping through this time around, I just now realized that he had been trying to cover it up.</p><p>“I fell on stage during rehearsal.” It wasn't from that. part of me believed the lie. Part of me knew that I was clumsy that day, I tripped and there was nothing more to it. A simple accident that had no further alterations tied to it. </p><p>He nodded; coming closer to me. If he believed it why shouldn't I?</p><p>The smell of rain was around us, crazy how only now, when we were quiet and the waves had died down, I picked it up. </p><p>The sound of him moving closer to me, the way the sand shifted, the sound of it played smoothly and paired up with every other feeling that made this night. </p><p>It was alive. </p><p>He set his hands over my shoulders, my own hands, on his waist, instinctively. Almost as if we had been practicing for this night, like if we knew each other for several years and this was mutual. </p><p>“What do you think about me?” That didn't fit, it threw the feeling — no, it drew the reminder of being only acquainted yesterday. Then again it could put my questioning to rest, he wanted me and that's why Gus acted the way he did around me.</p><p>There was a slight moment of nothing, the smell of rain never existed, the sand, the water, there was no light either. My heart was racing and there wasn't a need to answer.</p><p>It was strange, he was such a contrast to Gus, he actually cared about the things I was saying despite being minimal. </p><p>If the opportunity with Gus ever actually happened, after everything was over he would brush me off… but, that's all I would be living for.</p><p>I leaned into him, my lips over his as I closed my eyes. I felt his hands on my face, it didn't feel good. He pulled me down slightly, I wanted it to end but at the same time, I could never stop.</p><p>That was dangerous… my eyebrows furrowed, my hold onto his waist was a clenching one now. I wasn't sure if he noticed it, he didn't back down.</p><p>I wanted every ounce of him in that instance. I remember that feeling of something being new and that was synonymous with so many things that came into my life. With people, it was already tainted with someone's blood.</p><p>There were so many things on my mind — I was the one who took his hand away from my face and placed it over my waistband, I have such a thing for that.</p><p>It's just broken and fucked, when I — I pawed at his shoulder, motioning him towards what I wanted from him at that moment. </p><p>With my long-lashed eyes, I watched the bleach wash down into the darkness. He sank to his knees, his fingers gently dragged down my chest as he lowered to the ground. </p><p>My hand pulled his hair back. </p><p>I think you're the fucking worst.</p><p>⁵¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥</p><p>I'm so alone wya? </p><p>??? </p><p>Hiding from me? </p><p>You’re not in your room ): </p><p>Come back to me, kid. </p><p>I stared at the messages, it’s been an hour and a half. For the first thirty of it I was in the bathtub thinking of what to say. I couldn’t lie… what if he already knew where I was? I didn’t know what to say. </p><p>We didn't even fuck. He just blew me and then we went inside, spoke a bit before Gus came and took him. </p><p>Possibly for some girl talk shit I don’t know? They were that one type of sister gay so like🥺💀🐇 sis.</p><p>And I felt kinda proud? I don’t know why but I did. </p><p>So I stayed in the water until another message came in.</p><p>I brought your shit to my place. </p><p>Fuck. He knew I was with someone. </p><p>It was like stepping on shattered glass but I brought myself back to the bedroom to change and pack my stuff. </p><p>George walked in a few minutes ago, I was dressed, thankfully. But that cut my time with what I was doing. </p><p>They really were carefree about everything it seemed. I don’t know if i could adjust to the way they live, we were just too different and it really was a reminder that I shouldn’t even be around here.</p><p>He sat on the bed and I tried my best not to show any of my panic. From suppressing my breathing to walking around the room, it was a 10-minute circus act but he didn’t catch any of it. At least, that’s what it seemed like.</p><p>He just sat on the bed, legs dangling off of it as he swung them lightly, his smile never leaving. </p><p>We made plans to go into the city and possibly go back to his home town after the week. That was really appealing, and it was more of a distraction, not because I liked him. Or, I could’ve just been agreeing to everything because of what I was under now.</p><p>The house had been quiet for the first few hours, that’s when I should’ve gotten a move on. Then the hours crept by and I still had no clue what I was supposed to do.</p><p>It sounded like it was just Gus and Jazz, so I stayed in the room instead of walking back into their presence. I still hadn’t forgotten about my failed plan. Yesterday, what happened with George did make up for it, kind of. But now this was taking up all of my thoughts, I was scared. </p><p>I didn’t know where to go from the moment I saw the messages. I thought of several plans but they were all a dead end, going back to my place was far from a good thing, what would my excuse be? </p><p>It was way too late to answer him. </p><p>Now I had to deal with them being awake, I should’ve done something before anyone was up.</p><p>Sleep was hardly even clinging to me hours prior, now I was red-eyed and ready to fall over. </p><p>I know where you’re at. </p><p>I frantically typed out:</p><p>I’m leaving stay in the car please</p><p>I didn’t hear the knocks on the door, but I heard the talking. I could hardly walk now but I opened the door slightly and heard his voice coming from downstairs. I knew he was talking to George but I couldn’t make out what was being said. </p><p>Fuck. </p><p>I had barely even hit send and he was already here? Had he sent that while he was at the door? I put my phone away and got closer to the door to listen in.</p><p>“Where is he?” That was clear, had he fully come inside now? </p><p>“Upstairs, second door on the right.” I knew what kind of attitude he was giving George. </p><p>I backed up and closed the door, the shaking in my legs was leaving me debilitated. I went back to my bags wishing I had never come here in the first place. Why was I such an idiot? </p><p>The door opened and I didn’t dare look up at him. I hadn’t seen him in a few days and I wasn’t planning on our reunion to be like this. Other times, when we wouldn’t see each other — despite how he was — the reunion was such a thing to live for. He was nice, delicate even and it was like the time apart from me made him realize how much he genuinely loved me. </p><p>I just never knew why he would keep leaving? Maybe if he wasn’t doing that on the regular I wouldn’t be here. Then again, I shouldn’t be doing this to him regardless.</p><p>What he was willing to do right now? I had no idea. My uncertainty came with his silence. </p><p>“I’m packing up now,” I could hardly make my words into a sentence. I hated myself for going into a panic mode in the bathroom. Now he was all the way in here and I knew they were listening. Fuck it all! </p><p>“I told you to stay in the car-” I went back to the bag, this time my pace was quicker as I stuffed the remaining clothes and other belongings inside. I could’ve done this earlier; avoided what was to come. </p><p>The sound of his footsteps coming closer to me made me look up. My heart was pounding in my chest and nothing could ease away my fear anymore. </p><p>“Look at you.” Eyes squinted as he looked me up and down so subtly, and I always hated when he would do that. I knew he was holding harsh remarks about my insecurities. They had spilled out at times and I never wanted to hear it from him but that stare was of pure disgust. </p><p>“On your own,” My breath was cut-off when he made it to where I was standing. Now I was completely frozen in place. I had nothing left in me but to accept what was to come and to highly regret all my decisions prior to being found here.</p><p>He looked down at the bag, a slight laugh coming from him. I stared at it too but then he pulled me away from it. There was a slight gasp as I stared up at him. Both of his hands were firmly wrapped around my shoulders.</p><p>My back was slightly touching the blinds. I felt the panic rising now that I was driven into the corner.</p><p>“I can’t chase you around the country, Cherry.” I felt uneasy hearing the nickname that was used on special occasions. The way he said it too, soft, and I knew it was the add up to what was coming. </p><p>I stared at the ground, fear and shame crawling over my back. Why did it feel like he knew what happened between George and I? Then again he didn’t have to know what exactly happened as long as he found me here, I was guilty. </p><p>Sometimes I wondered what he was even doing with me anymore? If he seemed to find an issue with everything I did, not to mention limit me. </p><p>“Is that what you want me to do?” He spoke between grit teeth. </p><p>Keeping my composure was never an easy thing to do when he got like this. It was hard to swallow now and the sweat was crawling down my skin, my legs must’ve been shaking and maybe, if it wasn’t for the way he was holding me, I would’ve been on the ground.</p><p>“Chase you?”</p><p>I shook my head desperately, mouthing out a disfigured “no.” </p><p>“It was stupid of me, I know, but, please, don’t do this here.” My fingers were shaking but they were placed over his chest. My thoughts were racing in order to find something that would ease the whole situation. </p><p>His eyes watched my hands with rapid breaths. There was that crinkle of disgust over him, I caught it slightly before his open palm came over my face quickly causing me to jolt back into the window. </p><p>A whimper leaving my lips when it did; With a striking sting to the right side of my face. My fingers felt cold over it, yet, I kept them there as I stared at the ground. My back was against the blinds, I wanted there to be no evidence of what was going on but that was already something. They also must’ve heard me hit the window too.</p><p>“I’m gonna ruin you each time I find you.” He stepped closer to me. I felt even smaller now, my posture was slumped and I couldn’t take another hit — not here at least. </p><p>“I’m so s–orry.” It was shaky and it was the only thing between us. The top half of my body was now completely hot. </p><p> “Or did you want me to fuck you infront of these fuckers?” He held onto my shoulders pulling me into him with a slight shake, he wanted an answer.  </p><p>“No, I don’t want that,” I pleaded. The heat coming from his body was excruciating but amazing over me at the same time. Leaning into his neck I placed a small kiss on his collarbone. He groaned, but he still wrapped his arms around me. </p><p>My face was still stinging but I deserved everything he gave me.</p><p>I looked up at him, this time his expression was a little lighter. “Let’s just go, please, I’m sorry.” </p><p>The creaking of the door opening pulled me from his stare, his, becoming annoyed. </p><p>“Something wrong?” George peeked into the room looking concerned. I quickly cut eye contact with him and stared at the ground with wide eyes, my hand instinctively pulling my hair over my face.</p><p>“Nah, we were just leaving.” He tried to sound calm but there were parts of that where it wasn't genuine. I also noticed how he didn’t push me away, he kept me in his arms. </p><p>“I heard some yelling–” </p><p>Jesus Christ, this fucking kid.</p><p>“How ‘bout you close that door while I talk to my cousin?” He never even turned around to face him.</p><p>“Sorry,” he pitched in quietly before closing the door.</p><p>His heavy hand ran down my hair, “fuckin’ faggot.” He spoke as if he were directing it towards me and it probably was meant for the both of us. The way his actions were, they seemed forced.</p><p>“This is what you're wasting your time with?” </p><p>“a buncha drugged up kids?” He tilted his head slightly wanting to look me in the eyes but I stayed stale.</p><p>“Grab your shit.” I quickly nodded while scooping up my stuff.</p><p>I stepped out of the room. My bag pressed up to my chest, my hands were on the verge of going into that trembling state but I tried my hardest to keep what little composure I had garnered in that small amount of time.</p><p>Scott was in front of me, I followed him. I kept my head low, I watched my feet move and it was like I could trip at any second.<br/>
Even if I was doing the walking; going willingly, it still felt like I was being dragged out of here.</p><p>My hair fell over the right side of my face. The intent? To keep what happened in the room a blur — although, they must’ve known — or maybe they were on their drug binge and it was nothing to take note of.</p><p>George was standing close to the door, and I felt my heart drop. What if he spoke up about it? Oh god, what will Scott do? </p><p>“You’re leaving?”</p><p>“Yup,” he waved him off, not even giving him a stare or anything. </p><p>I stopped where he was standing. “Sorry, we have to record some stuff,” I was hoping that it sounded natural. I had thought of the excuse before walking out of the room.</p><p>He nodded, “it’s fine.”</p><p>I kept my head somewhat low and hardly made eye contact with him. I didn’t forget to keep my face slightly covered with my hair either.</p><p>Then I realized that George didn’t do anything “hard core.” Nothing to completely alter his mind. He had been vigilant this whole time. How could I forget? </p><p>That made my head spin. That’s why he was acting like that. He knew what was going on. What if he tells people about us? </p><p>“RUBY!” My thoughts cut and George made a disgusted sound or something like that. We both looked out the door even though we couldn’t see him. </p><p>He looked back at me, still looking concerned, “I’ll call you then?”</p><p>I slightly nodded with a small smile. It was done half-heartedly. </p><p>I stepped out into the cold air. My eyes over the car. This could well be the last time I ever see George, at least in a circumstance like this one. </p><p>{{{{{{{{{{{{6</p><p>“Did you at least think about me when you did it?”</p><p>The rain was starting up again, I brought myself back into the moment, his question being responsible.</p><p>I quickly turned to look at him. I always fucking do.</p><p>I could respond in so many ways. Different things that would get him angry, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to push that. </p><p>He didn’t look at me, he knew I was watching him. The way he ignored me, it added to his pride. </p><p>I deemed it unreasonable to even respond. I carried my view back to the windshields. </p><p>My hands were shaking as I gripped onto the shredded pieces of toilet paper. My knuckles were white as I tried not to yell from my pain. </p><p>The room was quiet — after a while. It was raging, complete horror and I wasn’t a bystander. </p><p>Now I was in the bathroom. My view being a cream, marble wall. It was probably too cold to be here, but I couldn’t do a thing about it. And it wasn’t shelter. </p><p>I limped in here, after everything had subsided and he was just a figure sitting on a couch, resting while watching me cry into the floor. </p><p>The door behind me was never locked, it’s not like the option would be available to me anyway.</p><p>Soon enough I’d have him wrapped around me. Beckoning hands stripping every piece of cloth off me. But, I was far from a martyr because my hands would be guiding him.</p><p>The taste of blood was stuck at the roof of my mouth. He dragged me here, it was some kind of place he rented out, I wasn't sure. </p><p>The car ride was a blur. Even there, I felt like I was cornered, back pressed up to the door as I watched his hands on the steering wheel. They were soon to be pulling me inside.</p><p>I caught a glimpse of the stuff I had at my hotel room before he turned me around to face him. There was no wall behind me for support, just the open air.</p><p>He pulled the hair off of my face. His fingers lightly pressed down over my cheek. A flinch came from me causing him to laugh softly. I raised my head to look at him, his eyes were dilated. My fingers wanted to hold his wrist, but my plans were cut short.</p><p>His knuckles came up to my face, pushing me back. My hands immediately cupped my nose. Everything started to feel warm and the blood was falling down my face. </p><p>Fuck. </p><p>I looked at my hands, they were blurry, pale and the red was vibrant over them. I looked back at him, before I knew it another swing came in, this time knocking me to the ground with a cry.</p><p>I hit the wooden floorboards with a loud thump. My back wanted to arch from the pain but I stayed grounded, my hands desperately feeling around me, I felt like I was spinning. My stomach started to feel sick again.</p><p>My mind was going back and forth with processing what was going on. His figure, standing tall next to me, watching me, but he was still a blur. Most of my pain was still coming from my nose. More blood slipped down my face as it ran down my neck and in that moment, it was the most uncomfortable thing. </p><p>He stepped out of view, his footsteps drowning out. I tried to stabilize myself, I wasn’t sure if this was over or if there was more. My right arm came over my nose, wiping away the excess blood. </p><p>I turned on my side. My eyes fluttering closed, the floorboards shifting in their position. There were more than a few sharp intakes of breaths. I just needed to rest for a little.</p><p>The regret was swimming in my head. At the same time I was trying to find the words to tell him that nothing had even happened. Would he even care? </p><p>I heard his heavy footsteps coming closer. I scrunched up my face feeling the pain pulsing in the middle of my face. Once I opened my eyes, all I saw were his legs right in front of me.</p><p>My eyes looked up at him but my head didn’t move. He brought his foot up to my right shoulder, with it he pushed me onto my back again roughly. </p><p>I didn’t say a thing, neither did he. Stagnant and waiting for his next move. </p><p>Jagged breathes and a flushed face was his visual of me. Yet, there weren't frantic eyes on my part but my fingers were trying to hold onto something. The wood felt slippery and it mirrored my hopelessness/fear.</p><p>There wasn’t a certain look on him; lips slightly parted while his eyes ran down my body. I didn’t bother covering myself with my arms. Instead, I watched his hand. He had a cigarette in between his fingers. </p><p>Is that what he went to go get? </p><p>I dropped my view onto the floor again. There was a tremendous wave of tiredness now. </p><p>Feeling dizzy, I heard the sound of his lighter fade in and out. My eyes closed as I let out an extensive, but low exhale.</p><p>“Aye, don’t sleep.” He kicked me slightly — it was more of a nudge but still my eyes shot open with a jagged gasp. His voice coming into my head louder than reality. </p><p>Now, the cigarette was in between his lips. </p><p>My breathing was fucked-up again as I watched him puff it once then drop the ashes over my body. I scrunched up lightly but I didn’t move away. </p><p>It was minor compared to what had just happened —  and, I only could have wished that it ended with that.</p><p>“Fuckin’ whore,” he shook his head before his expression shifted into disgust and he backed up slightly to kick me on the side. </p><p>It was intense and so quick. One action to another. I yelled while going into a fetal position. My rib felt like it was on fire. </p><p>I dug my face into the floorboards, the tears smudging onto the surface, this was the first time — in a long time, where he had hurt me enough to make me full on cry.</p><p>He was right next to me now, squatting at my level, I assumed. </p><p>His fingers ran along my side and stopped at my thigh. “Fuck, why you gotta do this?”</p><p>“We di-dn’t do any-thing.”</p><p>He exhaled heavily. There was another drag of the cigarette — “give me your fuckin’ wrist.”</p><p>What the hell did he need it for? I started to shake, my eyes watching the tears slip into the cracks of the floorboards, wishing that I had an escape. “F-for what?”</p><p>“GIVE IT TO ME!” </p><p>I flinched but I stuck out my arm, he immediately took hold of it. </p><p>I knew it was coming. </p><p>“FUCK!” </p><p>I just don’t know why I had such a terrible reaction to it. Of course physically it made me feel like the cigarette was melting into my wrist, but emotionally — it was like the ending to what we had, as if he had gone too far this time. </p><p>That hurt the most in the long haul. </p><p>A purple flash in the clouds made me watch the patch of sky attentively. </p><p>Does he remember that night?</p><p>I stared down at my arm, it was covered but a vague image of it came back to me. </p><p>Mainly staring at them in a mirror while naked. They were a light purple now but I knew that they would stay for years. </p><p>“You’ve always been—” He was in between my legs now. I watched him — excessive sweat was making my shirt stick to my back every time I arched it from the pain. My fingers were still shaking too.</p><p>He dropped my wrist seconds ago. Now I could fully see the amusement in his eyes. His blonde hair falling over him so perfectly, he looked better than what he was from weeks ago. </p><p>I wanted to admire him… I wanted him to know. I ruined any chance of it. Now he was looking over me, his hands at my hip bones and I was already drawing want for his touch. It didn’t matter how much he hurt me.</p><p>His hands forcefully pulled my shorts down. I was still in my boxers, that only told me that what I wanted wasn’t coming.</p><p>“Such a bitch.” There was a slight lip curl. His fingers rubbing the cigarette into my thigh. I didn’t even see when he brought it from his lips to his fingers.</p><p>I threw my head back, there was a crack in my yell as it shifted into sobs. </p><p>He always held that against me. If I weren’t what he classified me to be then we wouldn’t have gotten far. He wouldn’t have had the help I gave him whenever he needed it. </p><p>He lifted it up quickly only to bring it back down a little farther apart. I raised my back up again. My face digging into my hair. </p><p>There was a laugh coming from him, it echoed in my head.</p><p>“Don’t fuckin’ move.” His hand pressed down on my hip. Holding me in my position but I needed to react to it. </p><p>Then another, this time not as strong as the rest. I bit down on my lip after a yell. My fingernails dug into my palms. </p><p>“Even when we were younger.” </p><p>He stood up, while doing so he threw the cigarette onto my chest. It was completely dead now. </p><p>“I shoulda known you were a faggot then, woulda made my time worth while.”</p><p>I caught a glimpse of the sun peeking through the windows. The tears slipped down, I didn’t want to hear him. I hated what he was saying but it was reality wasn’t it? I was stuck in something that only existed on my side.</p><p>This was our last moment together wasn’t it?</p><p>Regardless, I was still here, in the middle of the bathroom. My heart was completely torn with my realization. And I didn’t know for a fact if this was our final moment but I couldn’t get the thought out of my head. </p><p>There was a slight creek of the door. He had been standing at the doorway for a minute or two.</p><p>I knew what this version of him was. It was that remorseful one, he gave me the lead. He followed what I did after he caused pain. He wasn’t calling the shots anymore and in a way, to him, that was his sorry to me. </p><p>That’s why he just stood there. He didn’t barge in and take a hold of me. </p><p>But it was all an act too. </p><p>I stood stiff but I turned around when I felt ready. </p><p>He looked horrified, as if he had found me like this. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling it back slightly, he wanted to achieve that desperate role.</p><p>And God he was a fucking natural at it.</p><p>He stepped closer and wiped the tears off with his thumb, then took the papers from my hand. He dabbed the blood that was running down my nose and over my lip. </p><p>I flinched lightly when he touched the bruises. Tears were still present, his thumb wiped them away. This wasn’t anything new but this was the worst so far. And it got me thinking, indulging in anxiety and panic: what will I be doing when he’s not around? </p><p>“I can't take you back like this.” That soft voice was around again. </p><p>“Maybe I should just let you stay here, I ruined everything.”</p><p>“No!” My hands did their own thing, clinging onto him, despite the distance I kept a few seconds ago. My frantic eyes stared into his, he couldn’t even look at me but I was searching for his gaze. </p><p>He didn’t budge and he just stood there as if he were thinking it over. I leaned into his chest, my eyes closing when his arms instinctively wrapped around me. “Stay here with me, I need you.” </p><p>“I love it when you give me attention, that's all, I told you I could live with this.”</p><p>I really could. </p><p>“Please.”</p><p>“I’m yours, I promise”</p><p>“You can do whatever you want to me, I'll make it up to you.”</p><p>“You really don’t have to, baby.” A slight shiver from the name and now all I wanted were his teeth on the arch of my neck.</p><p>I nodded, standing up while pulling my shirt off. “Anything for you.”</p><p>He backed me up to the sink. He lifted me up onto the counter. </p><p>“That’s why you’re my favorite,” He mumbled over my neck. His face digging into it. </p><p>Now I was softly crying into his shoulder. I couldn’t stand the thought of being torn apart. </p><p>He delicately placed kisses over my neck<br/>
— I loved hearing them, they were the validation, he truly enjoyed what he was doing. </p><p>I wiped my tears into his shirt, my arms wrapping around his neck. My heated face searching for his. I needed to kiss him, I needed to blur my reality, I needed to feel like none of the things that happened earlier existed.</p><p>You’re my favorite too~ </p><p>“I don't wanna talk about that,” I quietly mumbled after leaving his question unanswered.</p><p>A smile crept on his face, “I want it to never leave your mind.” </p><p>“Take the seat belt off.”</p><p>I didn’t want to but I complied. </p><p>He pressed his hand into my thigh. Then his fingers were at the ends of my shorts as they nudged me over lightly.</p><p>I furrowed my eyebrows, lips falling into a frown. “Please, just stop,” my voice became brittle towards the end. </p><p>He yanked my arm, pulling me closer into him and placing it right over his thigh. </p><p>Okay, I mentally repeated in my head. I fought the urge to freak out and back away from him but I knew that would be the wrong thing to do so I just stared at my hand, the black chipped nail polished on my fingers standing out to me; I needed something to take my mind away from this. </p><p>“Oh, Ruby, you're gonna have to come a lil' closer than that." He spoke as if I had put my own hand there. That made me fall off of my concentration. </p><p>I had to say something, “I just don't want you to be mad at me.” </p><p>And if I give you this, it won’t make any difference. But it was too late —</p><p>“Lighten up my mood then.” </p><p>I slightly nodded, maybe he would forgive me for what I did. </p><p>“C’mon, I’ll let you puff your lil’ clouds in the room when we get there,” there was a laugh after that, it was almost mocking but it made me smile a little.</p><p>That was appealing, actually, and that comment was reminiscent to our younger selves. When we first started this whole road life shit. Things were so loose back then, yet, there were boundaries still. Now things were full of unnoticed actions and feelings. </p><p>He got sober and that was great, I was more than proud of him to hop off the shit he used to do but he started kicking me out of the room. The time never mattered nor did the temperature. He didn't want that shit around him and I understood that but to throw me out like a dog? I never knew why he couldn’t just let me check out into a room on my own. </p><p>Those things were off, terrible and I hated reliving them each night every couple of months. </p><p>Whenever he seemed to pull me into any room was when he needed me. It was never for moral support or just support in general anymore…  As if it were normal to drag someone into whatever seemed fit: a bathroom, a supply storage room, the venue's backroom, even Kevin's garden shed.</p><p>It was fun at first, but things became forced when I wasn't feeling anything. Staring at whatever was in front of me became the thing that got me out of it, the “I love you” or “I need you” was the thing that kept me alive. </p><p>By the end of it, the name calling took me to a horrid place. And of course, I was left behind to clean up any mess. </p><p>It was strange how he didn’t want anyone to find out, yet, he was never careful with it. I didn’t want to assume anything. And I knew that if anyone ever found out he would claim that it was all me.</p><p>After that degrading and draining event, we'd walk out like nothing happened, so calmly around our “friends.” </p><p>Kevin, Nick, and Eric doubled down on me. It started slowly, from not wanting to hangout to completely ignoring me whenever we made an appearance around them. I knew he was talking about me, labeling me as an unsupportive, toxic person. </p><p>I heard something about me not answering his calls when he was in need or me planning on doing my own thing.</p><p>That's probably why there was never a $outh $ide $uicide 2  </p><p>It didn't hurt, honestly. I could care less what those dudes labeled me as, even if it wasn't true. </p><p>There was just a certain person that wrecked my inability to care. </p><p>~~~~~~~7</p><p>That’s What Whores Do—That’s What You Do!</p><p> </p><p>When he had no tattoos on his face. When he was still destroying his veins—and I wasn’t worn out from everything treading our way. </p><p>It was a period of knowing what the next move was. I wasn’t blindfolded, I wasn’t so easily taken into an episode of distress.</p><p>Then he would leave.</p><p>I remember the first apartment we bought together. A place to just vibe and make music—now it’s considered obsolete. </p><p>The nights there were the start to this—maybe. I could still count and relive every night in my head, it wasn’t good.</p><p>We invented things there. Things that would stick with us forever and that was everything to me. It was also a development of different aspects.</p><p>These last months were a slow climb but the pace was picking up. It went from posting a song or two over 4-6 weeks to garnering-up a playlist in a month. The interest was rising too. It felt good—at the start. </p><p>Staring down from the balcony on a dark night—the city lights, 10 or so stories below us—I wasn’t sure if I was ready for it. </p><p>He pressed me up against the balcony, the smoke from his cigarette swirled into the black, cold backdrop that surrounded us. The only light that outlined us was the one coming from his laptop. The rest of the apartment was completely dark, just how we liked it.</p><p>We did most of our work here. Just because the feel was overall better. We spent entire nights on the rigid balcony. Nothing was ever a miss and being alone, well, that left room for indecent behavior.</p><p>But at a point (maybe in the beginning and towards the middle) it wasn’t just that. There was a thorough connection. Asking for my opinion on what he was working on, ideas on how to improve a verse, or just asking how I was doing.</p><p>Insignificant—but it was a pretty-faced me watching him speak. The dilation of his eyes; how drawn out his pupils were over the clear blue. The way his blonde hair would fall back over his face whenever he would run a hand through it. </p><p>Seeing him enjoy my company: how could I forget that I could do anything as long as he was by my side?</p><p>His hands were on my waist, he looked down as well. He pulled me from the depths of self-harm, dirty drugs—crime. Now he wanted to throw me back in. </p><p>“Jump.” </p><p>Then that laugh.</p><p>I wasn’t ready… </p><p>He was gone, no more balcony nights, no more window watching, no more fucking in the hallway... Sleeping alone I found a new meaning to isolation. That was surely something to toss and turn about. The hours crept, and it was where pure absence was created.</p><p>I was left rummaging through anything, just to take my mind off of him. I wasn’t balanced but I learned to live with it. </p><p>A quiet presence had always been hanging high in our area but that took a turn, heavy music, dim lights, and others… that last part wasn’t easy to get used to. </p><p>—I stopped, wide-eyed, who the hell was he? </p><p>Taller than Scott, black, long hair—most times half of it was covering part of his face; puffing clouds and always looking down. </p><p>And things were probably never going to be the same after this. </p><p>It started off as a rare thing: bringing friends around. Those “inconsistencies” became a day-to-day thing. </p><p>And it was alright at first, I didn’t mind having a few people around. I wasn’t the social type so I stayed my distance from most of them. </p><p>But it was different being around him. I vaguely remember seeing him—never in person but maybe in a photo? Then again, everything I’ve ever heard was picked up from a few conversations I overheard. </p><p>I knew some things about him and they weren’t considered “ethical.” Again, that eavesdropping was always reliable. Despite displaying a solo image, he was never alone. </p><p>Problematic, they had said. Those kinds of people never sat right with me. </p><p>But what was the point?</p><p>I could brush it off—at the same time, I really couldn't. I wanted to know why he was lurking around here now. Who had brought him around? Was it Scott? </p><p>That was odd. I had been discreetly watching—hearing from afar, their “closeness” seemed wrong. </p><p>“Ruby, c’mere for a sec.” I wasn’t expecting an introduction to ever happen since he always seemed to ignore my existence until now. And that made me—mad? I wasn't sure why. </p><p>I walked over towards them, not really feeling anything when I did. I didn’t bother to look at Scott but I kept my eyes on his. I wanted him to acknowledge me now. The only thing on his mind: me—it needed to be.</p><p>“This is Elmo, he’s gonna work on some shit with me.”</p><p>I looked over at him.  “Sup?” </p><p>He didn’t say a thing, just raised an eyebrow as if he found it unnecessary to bring me over.</p><p>I could feel my ego fall apart. I felt small now. </p><p>“We met at a-” he stopped with a smile for a second, “party.” He said it in such a tone as if I didn’t catch the uncertainty in it.</p><p>The lack of guessing where they really met was high. “Alright.” I looked back at Elmo nodding while returning that same energy he was putting out.</p><p>He wasn’t smiling, he just stood there, staring down at me. And it was as if Scott hadn’t even realized how this guy was acting. </p><p>Fuck his problem?</p><p>I wasn’t in the mood to put up with this guy either, if he didn’t like me then that was that—at least, that's what I felt in that moment but going back to my distance, things started to shift into something—well, dangerous. </p><p>//</p><p>A few more nights played out, and it was my usual staring. I took my position by an old lampstand we had put at the corner of the living room, if not, then it was the couch. The lampstand area wasn't a local hotspot, plus with the dimmed-out light, my figure leaning on the wall, cup hiding my face, it was perfectly avoidable. </p><p>I turned slightly, the couch had been invaded by some dudes hitting a bong and or cutting some lines, I wasn’t sure—I didn’t care.</p><p>Still, I was thankful that I didn’t sit there, moving around was already difficult enough.</p><p>There had been a difference from the other nights. Ever since he arrived he had been looking my way. It was a few glances thrown around, and it left me a little surprised since he had no interest in me the other times. </p><p>I would casually creep around. It wasn't particularly hard to spot me either, but I wanted him to notice me again. It was strange that I had that feeling with him. I needed to know what he was thinking of me, especially now, that I was making myself stand out and he knew that I had been watching him. That I made an appearance tonight because of him. </p><p>And maybe he wanted to know why or maybe he didn't—maybe he just wanted to cut the mysterious bull shit on both ends and take me into my room.</p><p>Fuck. Why the hell had that been on my mind too? I hate the fact that he ignores me—like I’m some kind of meaningless bystander.</p><p>Most nights were boring. Nothing came of the staring, and maybe there was a point where he wanted to walk over but I hadn't realized that Scott had been watching me the whole time as well. </p><p>As soon as I saw him, striking eyes or a scowl over me, my late-night endeavors were completely killed.  </p><p>I paced in my room for a few more nights, the music banging the walls but I could mentally mark where he was at. </p><p>I was left with my thoughts. I couldn't raise any suspicions of what I felt for him. So I went off with the aspects I picked up, some new and not-so-new things from him.</p><p>The first thing to note: his energy was nothing like ours—I didn’t like it but I was somewhat attracted to it. And I hated the thought of that. </p><p>I knew Scott wanted to mimic it, not for me obviously, he didn’t even know how I felt about it but he wanted to replicate that dark image that Elmo had. </p><p>I knew that he lost his own image, somewhere in between creeping in the lowest to gaining some fame. The real portrayal was blurred and he loved what Elmo was emitting. </p><p>A new thing: the way he acted around his close friends. He was a totally different person. Laughing, smiling—which was something I hadn't seen. </p><p>A small part of me wanted to be around him. I could see us standing there together. He was a lot taller than me. His arm could've been wrapped around me or something. And his hair~ God fucking damn it, his fucking hair. I loved it. The way it fell over his face or when he pulled it back. </p><p>Then there was that part of me that dug me into my grave: Scott. </p><p>And like the wretched hands that were latched to my hips so were his.</p><p>Those nights had another piece to them. After everyone left there were times where he’d be the one to take me to the room and fuck me. I wasn't complaining. It was just odd having feelings for two people, it’s never happened. </p><p>Well, maybe it wasn't completely having feelings. I was weak after the way he left me and Elmo was like an escape—maybe I didn't even want him for a while, maybe my want was just for a few late-night fucks. </p><p>I knew—and too damn well, that Scott was the person I wanted for the rest of my life. Regardless of the shit that has split us apart for now—that was temporary, it always is. </p><p>But by the next week, none of my thoughts mattered anyway. Two very displeasing instances left an imprint on me (and that was before everything went downhill).</p><p>Thinking back to it now—maybe I was the culprit to my own dismay. I brought it on myself and the payment was terrible and ongoing. Maybe I should’ve prepared for what was to come—if I had been doing the stuff that I had been doing and labeled myself as the “initiator”. </p><p>Then again, he was dropping hints, and, at that moment, I would’ve never imagined what was to truly come. </p><p>4 or was it 9? I don't exactly remember how many days he had been gone. Not entirely—he slipped in one night (between the weekdays) for our disintegrating ritual. Maybe that's why I had a terrible time remembering how many days it had been without him—or maybe it's what happened when he came back. </p><p>He said he was coming alone. I wasn't in a particularly good mood so I fell asleep on the couch while he worked on stuff. </p><p>I wasn't anticipating much—but the usual. Except, it was beyond that. I woke up, and the first thing I saw was the night sky from the sliding door but it wasn't dark. The lights were turned on, I didn't think much of it. </p><p>I sat up but stopped moving when I heard something. I turned around. I became tense and the drowsiness left my body seeing Elmo stand by the door just watching me. </p><p>He wasn’t shocked when he saw me, his expression didn’t change from that intent stare, almost as if he had been waiting for me to wake up and notice him. </p><p>“Hey.”</p><p>“Hi.” I looked at him. My eyes kept track of where he was looking. </p><p>I readjusted myself, my back straight and hair thrown back in a swift motion. He was watching my movement, and when his eyes went lower so did mine. I pulled the blanket off my legs. I was in my oversized sweater and boxers but there was still a lot to look at.</p><p>Scott could've walked in at any moment. He knew that, and maybe it would be something to easily clear up or it could’ve been obvious when I placed my hand on my thigh. He kept watching regardless. </p><p>It didn't stop until Scott called him into the room. </p><p>I laid back onto the couch, smiling. </p><p>//</p><p>It was the first time he had even dared to take a hold of me. And I was waiting for that push or that instant hate towards me for making him feel a certain way. </p><p>But it never came. </p><p>“What’s your problem with me?”</p><p>Had he forgotten about last week’s instance? Or was the suggestiveness only felt on my side? </p><p>Had to be. </p><p>“Um, I don’t have one.” I quickly went back to my usual personality. </p><p>“Why do you never talk to me then?”</p><p>Talk to him? </p><p>Or I could shake the hold that he had on me and ignore him completely. That’s what he’s been doing to me, so, why shouldn’t I?</p><p>I didn’t do that. There was still that — minor interest for him. </p><p>“You jealous?”</p><p>I squinted with a light head shake “Of what?”</p><p>Fuck. Did he know about us? Had he seen something? </p><p>“Of me always hanging around your cousin.” </p><p>It was making me feel confined and heated. Failing miserably, of course, he fucking knew that I was. What was he trying to get out of this? </p><p>My hair had completely stopped covering my face and his eyes weren't on mine anymore but rather on that now-fading bruise that I had kept hidden.</p><p>Fuck he saw it. I looked down, my hair falling over that side of my face again.</p><p>“No, that’s stupid,” I mumbled. </p><p>“Um, look.” I slightly turned again, I didn't dare look up at him anymore. I was also fighting the urge to bring my hand up and adjust my hair further—but that would only lead to questions. </p><p>“I don’t give a fuck what you do with him. We’re not attached to the hip.” </p><p>“I didn’t mean to get you all like that.” </p><p>A low and irritated sigh came from me. Fuck you.</p><p>He just laughed. His hand wasn't even around my arm anymore so I took the opportunity to leave.</p><p>That irked me. He was the one who made it clear that he didn’t want me around.</p><p>I completely decided to burrow away anything that I felt for him. He clearly wasn't on the same shit I was on. </p><p>But still, that wasn't the deepest I had been. If I knew what was to come, I would've never complained about being left in that apartment nor would I have been messing around where I shouldn't have.</p><p>;;;</p><p>“Aye, guess what?”</p><p>“Huh?” </p><p>“Just bought a house, shed and all.” </p><p>“Fuck, you serious?”</p><p>“Yeah, got you your own room too.”</p><p>“Great.”</p><p>And that was that dreaded back-and-forth dialogue. No faces, expressions, or even what he was wearing were stuck in my mind, just two voices wrapped in the darkness of our—my room.</p><p>-----</p><p>I stepped out of the car. Slamming the door shut I took a look around, despite it being dark. </p><p>He wouldn't stop talking. I hadn't seen him this happy, not in a while at least. It left me bitter knowing that I wasn't the reason for his uplifted mood. </p><p>“It’s real fuckin’ nice, so much space.” I dragged a single finger down the wooden door. </p><p>“You gotta see the inside,” he smiled while opening the door and letting me in. </p><p>I stopped and waited for him to lock the door but at the same time I was listening to that quiet noise that was coming from one of the rooms. Clicking? And then a grunt or more of an annoyed sound. </p><p>He finally stepped back to me and led me down the hallway. My heart was pounding in my chest when I started to realize that it was Elmo. </p><p>“Fuck took you so long?” He quickly looked at me, his expression changing before going back to the game to pause it.</p><p>“You brought him.” I heard him mumble. I couldn't tell what tone he used. </p><p>“Had to pick up some stuff.” It was troubling to think about him being here alone. Now that we may be apart more it was harder to find a way for him to stop his addiction. </p><p>I had been watching Elmo—basically their whole interaction. I noticed how he kissed his teeth when Scott mentioned the stuff. And that was surprising? He wasn't okay with Scott doing it. For the longest time it had just been me.</p><p>Scott just laughed and Elmo went back to playing zombies. </p><p>Scott took my hand and whispered a “c’mon”. My face heated up while I stared at our hands. This was the first time he did this in front of someone. </p><p>Was he really okay with this? </p><p>I wasn't sure how to act. Elmo and I weren't on good terms, especially after what happened when he was at the apartment—more like, what I did. Then again, he seemed to have forgotten it when he caught me in the hallway to ask me those stupid questions.</p><p>Now, I started to feel pride. My personality was completely capable of anything. Scott brought me around — almost flaunting me to this fucking loser. </p><p>Maybe Elmo had said something about me, something that Scott didn't like and now this was the response to that.</p><p>It was a back-and-forth from my phone to the screen. They hadn't spoken much and it seemed like they were quiet because of me. There were a few things said but nothing long.</p><p>“I’ll be back,” he mumbled. My eyes went wide and I wanted to hold onto him or go with him but he never liked it when anyone was around during that. </p><p>Elmo sighed and I caught the roll of his eyes from the light of the screen. I watched Scott grab the plastic bag he had walked in with and lock himself in a room that I was assuming was the bathroom. </p><p>I looked back at the screen unsure of what to do now. The wave ended and I hadn’t realized that he had restarted from his round 30. I guess he died when I wasn't looking. </p><p>He looked over at me, our eyes staying put on each other for a second before his eyes centered over my legs. It was quick, then he looked back at the screen. </p><p>“We should work on somethin’ sometime.”</p><p>I raised an eyebrow while dropping the ashes over the tray. Despite the change in my mood, there wasn't a need to be awkward. He was the one with the start up glances and now this. “Kinda somethin’?” I didn't bother looking up at him. </p><p>“Like a duo-project.” That was concerning to hear and it certainly did add more evidence towards his intention with me. So he was on the same shit as me. </p><p>“You come solo with me.” What kind of invitation was that? What about Scott? </p><p>“Wouldn't be much of a solo thing then?” I leaned back into the couch. I was hoping to play it off as more of a clueless thing. </p><p>“Anything without your cousin is close enough to a solo act.” I stayed still, he noticed it too. My eyes slightly widened but I breathed out trying to revert my composure to a relaxed one, it was unnatural and I knew that I couldn't recover from it — plus my silence. </p><p>There wasn't a reason to hide my apparent hurt now. I cleared my throat. “Everyone seems to have a problem with that.” speaking softly, my grip over the blunt became tighter. </p><p>I still remember a couple of remarks that were thrown towards us. It was always a pain to hear them, it seemed like Scott had agreed with them now.</p><p>“Never said I did,” He quickly shot back, his eyes over mine. </p><p>“Not upfront. Just seems like it's an irritable feeling people get when they’ve been around us for too long.”</p><p>“Seems like he’s doing fine when you're not around,” He spoke while looking towards the bathroom door. I looked too as if he were standing at the front of it. All that was there was the sound of the running water, light seeping from the bottom but no moving shadow to interfere — the longer I stared, the more his words started to sink into me. </p><p>Fine without me. </p><p>What the hell was this? Why am I taking this shit from him?</p><p>My eyes traced the wood markings over the door and an ominous feeling crept now — not just because of being alone but was today finally the day he overdid it? And he would leave like this? It wasn't in the back seat while I watched with glazed eyes as he shot up. It was in between terrible thoughts and a morbid individual.  </p><p>My knees began to ache and my stomach turned. I had the urge to jump up and run towards the bathroom. The visual of his body hanging off the sink was in rotation with another visual of him face down in his own vomit. </p><p>If it wasn't that — then, I needed to know that it wasn't true… I wasn't losing him to other things. I wanted to desperately know that he still wants me around — that he still loves me.</p><p>He wouldn't have brought me here if it were true. He wouldn't have had his hands over me with such dignity prior to walking in if it were true — right?</p><p>“Then again, we’re not relatively close so I can't know how you take being apart from him.” </p><p>What? </p><p>I turned back to look at him. There was a slight smile. </p><p>If Scott had told him about us then he had clearly complained about me too—Repeated arguments with him ending it with a “clingy bitch” or threats of going solo.</p><p>“Does it matter?” I questioned while dropping my view from his. He didn't answer and I wasn't ready to finish the conversation. “Well, I’m doing great right now, aren't I?”</p><p>“Yeah.” He nodded and looked away. He placed the controller over the coffee table. </p><p>“Think about it.” He stood up and I watched the screen with the ‘Game over’ words pop up. </p><p>I didn't say another word, and there was a brief moment where he stayed staring at the bathroom door before completely leaving.</p><p>I heard the door slam shut and I immediately stood up and walked into the bathroom.</p><p>I eyed the needle over the sink. Scott was wobbling between the counter of the sink and the wall. He looked over at me and mouthed out something that probably wasn't a word. He smiled right after, his eyes closed. </p><p>“W–hat happened to El?” I looked back at him. Stepping closer to hold him while he swayed and stared down at me. His eyes were fluttering and I knew he was about to pass out any second. </p><p>“He left.” I slid under his right arm to help him walk towards the bedroom.</p><p>“What’d you tell him?” His words were slurred but hearing that irritated me. </p><p>“Nothing, I don't know what his problem is.” I didn't care if he didn't like that, it's not like I was going to tell him what he told me. Plus, — I looked at him, there was a faint smile, his eyes closed as he stumbled through the doorway — I’m sure he can't process any of it now. </p><p>I helped him sit at the foot of the bed. Once I let go of him he wasted no time crawling into the blanket. </p><p>I smiled while watching him. </p><p>“You comin’?” </p><p>I turned off the light before walking towards the opposite side of the bed. </p><p>I hadn't even taken the time to look at the details of his room. It's been so long since he's had his own. It was too dark now — and, maybe that was a good thing? I didn't have to dwell on unhappy thoughts or overthink an item. The thing that was for sure was that he was moving on.</p><p>“You’re my favorite, Ruby.” That pulled me from my thoughts, plus the unpleasant conversation that I had with Elmo — that was still floating in my head. </p><p>“Yeah?” There was a crack in my voice. </p><p>I knew he was my replacement. </p><p>“Mhmm,” he hummed while digging his face into my back. </p><p>I pulled the blanket up to my face, closing my eyes and letting the tears fall into the pillow. My hand took his own — I didn’t have to worry about it right now.</p><p>//</p><p>“What’s got you so quiet?” I turned around to face him. </p><p>“Nothing.” I rubbed my eyes, still feeling drowsy. My body was still stiff from sitting in the same position for hours.</p><p>Sleep is the only thing that is going to make me feel well. Despite feeling physically sick, I knew that there wasn't a remedy for that. And now, he made plans to leave — go back to his place, was that it? It doesn't matter. </p><p>Why was he still here? Taunting me unknowingly.</p><p>I’ll probably slip my clothes off, drink wine, and pass out on the couch. I could deal with everyone tomorrow.</p><p>“Are you leaving-” I paused for a second, “now?” </p><p>He turned around, and maybe, I shouldn't have asked. “Why?” The question didn't seem to sit right. </p><p>“You want me gone or something?” He had that fixed stare that only held anger over me—as if I were testing him.</p><p>“Huh?” He pointed his index finger out and pressed it up to my chest. I stared back not wanting to fully acknowledge his newly picked up behaviour. </p><p>“Isn't this our place?” He looked around and I couldn't believe the audacity that he had to say that. </p><p>“You know I don’t. You said you were leaving when you dropped me off here,” I manage to slip in before he goes on that never-ending argument of how he gave me everything I owned. </p><p>And there it went. </p><p>“Look at this.” His finger brushed a bruise that was on my left cheek (similar ones could be found all throughout my body) but this one stood out. What was it? Oh yeah. He was angry that I had gone off with Germ and Eric on that late-night trip to the next town over. It was just sight-seeing but he couldn't handle that. </p><p>It was straight to my face when I walked through the door.</p><p>“I almost regret it sometimes,” he frowned. His fingers brushed down my cheek to another bruise that was over my lip. “I ain't gotta mark you up like dat.” It wasn’t a genuine apology or regret, there was amusement and mockery tinting his tone.</p><p>I just watched him, face stale and waiting for the bullshit he was going to spew next. </p><p>And there was that scene after he hit me replying in my head.  </p><p>“Baby, I’m so fuckin’ sorry,” he walked over to me. </p><p>After picking myself up from the ground, I was on the couch, slumped but not yet crying.</p><p>“Y’know I don't like them. They got different ideas.” Fuck that. He knows too damn well that they wouldn't do shit. It's the fact that I’m leaving him behind that gets him angry. </p><p>“I wasn’t doing anything,” I mumbled with a shaky voice. </p><p>I don’t remember what else came from that night—just that if I was going anywhere, he’d have to be by my side. </p><p>“So pretty but you wanna do whatever you want. You wanna run around with the wrong people. You wanna get me angry and run over my feelings.”</p><p>“You deserve it.” There certainly was no care in him. He flicked his fingers at one of the bruises on my face. </p><p>Fuck! I immediately grabbed my face after he turned around. It stung and an awful pain was flowing through my body. </p><p>He turned back around sighing. He stood closer this time, his hands grabbing mine. I just stared at him wondering why his whole demeanor changed on a whim.</p><p>“C’mon, baby Ruby,” he purred, as he leaned into my neck. I stayed still watching with wide eyes. </p><p>My face started to heat up when he spoke over my skin. “We’re back home. Back with all our friends and family.” His finger placed over my chest to draw inconsistent circles.</p><p>He kissed my neck and trailed up to my ear. I took a double intake of breath while feeling weak from the way he was moving on me. He stopped at my ear, “I want a personal celebration with you first,” he whispered. </p><p>I didn't know what to say. A second ago he was tearing down my confidence. Now he wanted to fuck me? “Is that really what you want?”</p><p>“Of course it is.” </p><p>“You're not tired of me?”</p><p>He pulled away from my body. His hands coming up to my face to hold me and stare at his eyes. There was a slight smile, he shook his head, “where’d you get that from?”</p><p>////</p><p>And the atmosphere was regained despite having certain things that could easily make it fall apart or issues that were tied to it. </p><p>For now, I just wanted to pretend that they never existed. We were the same from 2 years ago. There weren't arguments and there wasn't violence. </p><p>My breath was caught in my throat when his hands grabbed my waist. Through thick lashes, I stared down at him. The joint I rolled for him was now lit, and he had been ghosting it.</p><p>His fingers ran down the gown. His eyes concentrated on my body before he pulled me over his lap. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty.” It was always spine-tingling to hear his NOLA accent, it was deep, and whenever he directed it towards me, I felt like I was floating. </p><p>I flicked my hair back, soft curls fell over my back delicately. I centered my eyes over the way he was dragging the joint, finding it mesmerizing, and sorting out an appeal to the way he did it. He would slightly turn to the side whenever he blew out the smoke. </p><p>My eyes dragged alongside his jawline and down to the tattoo that was over his neck. It called for my hand to be placed there like always and once it was, my thumb fell into that instinct of stroking the side of his neck. </p><p>There was that smile on him as he turned to face me. His hand dragged down my chest. His fingers slipping down the black silk of my nightgown. </p><p>I kept the knot around my waist loose. I knew how much he liked it when I wore these. And this one was something special. He bought it for me a few months ago. I don't remember what city we were in but the hotel room and what happened that night will always be in my head~</p><p>Other than that, it was extremely beautiful, black satin with lace trim. </p><p>My back pressed into his grip, his eyes watched with little remorse and I couldn't help but peak in that region of love when I felt his grip on my thigh. </p><p>I leaned into him, my palm over his chest. I knew he was watching over me. “I rolled your blunts.” My hand slipped down, briefly stopping above his hip. “Now what ya gonna do to me?” </p><p>His thumb pressed down over the bruise on my lip causing a jagged intake of breath and my eyes to immediately well up. My whole risque act was broken down. Even the wine couldn't bring me back from that one.</p><p>He laughed while simultaneously shaking his head, “you can’t take it.” He ran his hand down his face.</p><p>“I-I can.” A poking pain was all over my face; surely red too. </p><p>“I might have somewhere to be.”</p><p>It was like going to a desperate or destructive mode, and I could never pull myself out of it. </p><p>“No!” </p><p>Did I want to? My mind was always swimming in dangerous currents anyway, always moving from one place to another, and when — IF I would be back to a certain place, the feelings weren’t the same, it was always changing.</p><p>“You don’t know how much I need you.”</p><p>I was losing my mind. And he — he was watching. He loved every fail, tear—hit.</p><p>“Yeah?” An eyebrow arched, his eyes looking into mine while dilated. The curve of his lips. It was something far from a normal night.</p><p>I nodded. </p><p>“Aight, why don't we do something—fun?”</p><p>Fun? Wasn't I already giving him the invitation to fuck me over the couch? My voice could crack if I spoke now. My whole body was on the verge of going weak and the visibility of that was the tremors from my arms.</p><p>Still, I managed to speak, “like what?”</p><p>“Let’s go back to my place.” </p><p>“Our place.” He corrected himself.</p><p>“You gotta stop livin’ here, stay by my side.” He held a single curl in between his fingers.</p><p>“Um, like this? S–hould I get dressed?” I ran my hands down the gown. </p><p>“Hell Nah.” He pulled me into him with one arm. He stared into my eyes, “you’re fucking glowing.”</p><p>A deformed smile with a quick chuckle made itself known. My face turned a few shades darker. “Okay,” I mouthed out.</p><p>He kissed my forehead before walking me towards the door. </p><p>///</p><p>We sat in the car, and maybe it was the darkness or the way he looked with the street lights glowing over him as we sped down the road—I wasn't sure, I just knew that just like that, I was back. </p><p>“Mmm.” There was a smile over my lips as I crawled over to him. My open-palmed hands dragged around his chest until they reached his lap. By that point my face was pressing up to his thigh. I stared up at him. </p><p>“Drag your nuts across my face.” I caught my lip in between my teeth. He stopped at a red light so he had time to look down at me.</p><p>He laughed as he rested his hand over my hair. “Dirty bitch,” he mumbled, but he wanted that, I could feel it. </p><p>I let out a soft laugh too while my hand started rubbing over his dick. “You’re gonna get us killed, baby.” </p><p>“Isn’t that what Scarecrow wants?” I looked back up at him, eyebrows furrowed. </p><p>This time he couldn't look down at me. </p><p>“Nah, I’d rather fuck you first.” His hand slipped down to my mouth. I quickly took a hold of his wrist. My tongue licked his thumb before he stuck it in my mouth.</p><p>Fuck~</p><p>“But not here.” He removed his hand and I frowned but respected what he wanted. I sat back up and put my seat belt back on. </p><p>“Bitch,” I mumbled. </p><p>///</p><p>He led me inside. It was still the same from when we left. I was thankful that no one would ever be here. Just like the apartment, we could do whatever we wanted. And I was more than excited to know what he had planned for me.</p><p>He grabbed me from behind. His arms wrapped around my waist as he pressed his face up to my shoulder and spoke into it.</p><p>I leaned back into him, hardly being able to hear what he said, “I need you to take care of something for me.” </p><p>I turned around smiling, looking down I stepped back so I could dip to my knees. But before I could, he grabbed my wrist, stopping me and leaving me bent at an angle. I looked up at him with a questioning look. </p><p>“Not that.” </p><p>“Alright,” I mumbled. I brought my arms around his neck. “What then?” lips in a pout while starting up at him.</p><p>“Somethin’ better.” He smiled a bit. His eyes closing. “You’re gonna love it,” He whispered.</p><p>“Yeah? What is it?” </p><p>It was as if it were on cue from when I said that. I heard something from the backroom. </p><p>I quickly tensed up. “Who's here?” </p><p>He didn't answer, he just kept smiling. I turned around but saw no one. I turned back to him, “Scott, who is that?” </p><p>I was ready to go back there and see for myself but his grip on my waist kept me still. </p><p>“No one, baby.” He kept me from turning around now that the footsteps were coming closer. His thumb pulled my bottom lip down slightly—he was trying to distract me but-</p><p>“Hi Ruby.” I heard it and it echoed through my head. Like a tremor that came from above. That deep voice, that sinking feeling in my gut. </p><p>I quickly turned my head “wha-”</p><p>“Elmo!?” My lips were moving but I couldn't fully be held accountable for what was coming from them. I could feel myself detach from my body. </p><p>“What are you doing?” I looked down, his hands were tightly gripped over my hips. I hadn't noticed it until his fingers applied a little more pressure. </p><p>I looked up at Scott—who was smiling and leaning in closer. “How bad did you say you wanted me?” His hand wanted to come up to my cheek but I moved out of the way to stare at the ground. They both laughed, and my heart only fell into deeper misery. </p><p>“I-” No words could fully come from me.</p><p>“Why he dressed like a bitch?” His right hand pulled at the fabric. </p><p>Everything was going by so quick. I couldn’t acknowledge the details. My breath hitched and my chest began to tighten. A rise of heat came upon me.</p><p>“C’mon,” he scoffed. “I already told you why he do that shit.” That heat turned into pricks over my body, what did he say about me? I can't even imagine.</p><p>I couldn't move—even if I tried, Scott was right in front of me, and I already knew his arms would keep me from going anywhere. Then again—I looked down, Elmo’s hands were digging into my hip bones—he was keeping me put.</p><p>My mind was trying to process what this was. What was going on? Why? </p><p>“What are you doing?” I asked again, this time my voice being coherent. My head was slightly turned, my eyes were staring down but it was directed towards Elmo.</p><p>“Look at me if you're going to talk to me.” I tried to swallow the fear and do what he asked. I slowly turned up to look at him—And black eyes were staring back down at me, it wasn't what I wanted to see. I quickly looked back down, it kicked in automatically. I could feel the rumble in his chest from his laughter.</p><p>And it was with a high guilty conscience that I was swimming in now. I wanted him but not like this—FUCK! It never crossed my mind that Scott would offer me to him.</p><p>It truly fucked up my thoughts. Leaving me with no pinpoint on what I should be feeling. I dreamt of this—him. On the other hand, Scott was doing something so wretched to me. </p><p>I knew that he was still staring down at me, it was already uneasy having him around me because of his height but now that he was pressed up against me from behind, and the visual was pure terror. </p><p>“You're acting like you've never been around me.” I never expected an exchange like this to happen between us. I genuinely believed that we’d slip into something secluded, away from Scott. But this was leaving me disgusted. </p><p>Maybe it was my senses peeking now, I could feel the echo in his chest from his deep voice, the way his fingers shifted slightly too, his breathing. None of those things helped me. I didn’t know what to do, say or how to act. So I continued to stay stiff, wide-eyed, and staring at the floor.</p><p>“Scott, don't you think that's a lil' rude?” He took his view off me, now he was looking at Scott. I didn't have the energy to focus on him, so I didn't even know what he had been doing. Then again, was it hard to guess? He was probably watching this with enjoyment. </p><p>But still, I couldn't piece this together. Why did he allow this? Had Elmo asked for this? Or was Scott doing this to teach me a lesson? I was still so lost and maybe I will never get a full answer. </p><p>“Not sure where this boy get his attitude from, you're gonna have to fix it.” His fingers held my chin. I couldn't believe what he was saying. I looked up at him for a second before looking away. At that moment it wasn’t Scott anymore. </p><p>“Just bend him the right way, and you'll have him begging for more.” </p><p>“Watch this.” He grabbed Elmo’s hand and took it under my nightgown. I tensed up as I watched it slide up. He placed Elmo’s fingers over my chest and immediately, my face began to heat up.</p><p>“He loves that. Real fuckin’ sensitive right there, ain't that right, boy?” He had leaned in closer to me. I didn't dare look at him or anything else but the carpet. He was breathing over my neck, and it was still so hard to register that this was the same person who claimed to love me.</p><p>There wasn't time to focus on his betrayal. The tips of Elmo's fingers were cold over my bare skin. “Please, don't do that,” I mumbled with balled-up fists. </p><p>“That true? You like it when I do this?” He held my nipple in between his fingers before pulling it and squeezing down tightly. I furrowed my eyebrows looking away from him. I looked over at Scott who was just watching with amusement. </p><p>“What if I bit them, huh?” My skin started to crawl just by him saying that. Sweat was covering my body all over, and the thought of surviving what was to come was bleak.</p><p>“Be gentle with my cuz, yeah, El?” They both laughed at the mocking comment. I felt like an item hearing it. </p><p>“C'mon.” His hands were now over my shoulders, with a hard nudge towards the couch I stumbled over to it. My mind didn't execute my actions and I knew this was my instinct for survival kicking in.</p><p>He dropped me to the floor with a heavy hand. My knees felt cold, despite the fibers of the carpet brushing up against them. They were both staring down at me but I still couldn’t stomach the fear that was around me — and the shock of course. </p><p>Maybe it was robotic, I couldn’t have known. My fingers went to the button of his pants, I didn’t want to even look as I tried to manage my composure — it'll be over soon. </p><p>Again, while being so caught up with my hands, I never even noticed Scott by my side. He was on his knees as well, watching me pull Elmo's dick out. That was strange to even think about let alone have my hand over someone else’s in front of him. He was such a jealous person -- the relationship they had must be beyond something he had ever formed if he was allowing this. </p><p>I dipped down to wrap my mouth around his dick. My eyes were closed while I tried to imagine something else. </p><p>“That’s my lil’ baby,” he breathed out and it made me want to fall out of what I was doing but I kept my composure. I didn’t want to know what Elmo was thinking during all of this--even if it wasn’t hard to guess. </p><p>I slightly flinched and opened my eyes when I felt Scott’s fingers pull my hair back. I was unsure of why he had done it, to have a better view or to do a better job? Or was it both? </p><p>My mind wasn't fully here, anyway. I wasn't sure of how well of a job I was executing. With what he was saying and the overhead noises from Elmo, I could only assume it was good.</p><p>I felt that cold loneliness on my left side once he stood up. My eyes watched him take his place right next to Elmo. He leaned over the armrest.</p><p>What was he doing? </p><p>He took the cigarette from Elmo. His eyes were different—a look that was beyond imprinted into my mind. I just didn't know why it was on him now. I wanted to stop it. My heart began to sink deeper with each second. </p><p>Elmo’s hand came off from my hair. I tilted my head upwards a little to get a better view—my work became sloppy but I kept it enough to where he wouldn't notice me watching them. </p><p>There was a slight turn to Elmo’s lips. He was concentrating on Scott now. His hand came up to Scott’s neck to pull him in closer. Horrified I kept watching—I knew what was coming next but when they finally kissed I wasn't expecting it to knock the wind out of me.</p><p>I had stopped, and soon came Elmo’s hand to pull me down farther into him to keep going. </p><p>I wanted to run away. I took my view to something else but the visual was stuck in my head. The sound, the laughing—the back and forth mumbling. </p><p>No. This wasn't real. </p><p>Every single thing that I loved was diluting out now--this place wasn’t the same and it never will be. With the next hand pushes to my head and the silence from them. I could painfully feel that what we had, left too. Now it stained down the walls with all of the imperfections I was blind to.</p><p>I could see how much of a grimy place this was, and he deserved to be here with the peeling wallpaper and the stained carpet. </p><p>Then came a harsh push over my shoulder. He forced me off of him but with not enough strength to make me fall back. </p><p>What happened? Was he finally tired of it? I didn't even make him come. </p><p>I didn't have the stability to look up. Tears were forming as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. I kept my view on the ground. The pain from Elmo pushing me away wasn't going away. Then I heard that awful thing: “we ain’t done”.</p><p>I felt like I was floating, stomach in knots as I felt my back being pressed down on the couch. A gasp coming from me as my eyes searched for Scott’s now that I was laid over the couch. Elmo was staring down at me with a haunting look and a small smile.</p><p>Was this part of the plan? Would he really let Elmo do this to me? This had to be crossing some kind of boundary for him. I looked at Scott hoping to see anger or something but it was the last thing I wanted to see.</p><p>He was across from us, on the other couch, eyes intently watching everything that was going on. The cigarette firmly in his grip, his other hand—</p><p>I couldn’t see that. </p><p>I went back to Elmo, his hands had been running down my chest this whole time, uneasy groans came from within me. It was pure confinement with how he was over me, I hardly had room to breath. </p><p>I wasn't sure of when he untied the bathrobe, but needless to say his hands had been almost everywhere around my body. I didn't feel much during most of it. What I saw was dulling out his touch. </p><p>He kept eye contact with me, even when he dipped down to my chest. The erratic heart palpitations started up again. A severed feeling of warmth was around my gut. My lips were parted as I watched his tongue now.</p><p>He dragged it over my nipple before his teeth bit down. My back arched and a broken whine filled the room. My eyes were glossed over when he bit down more. My hands balled up around the bathrobe that was hanging off of me. </p><p>“Fuck—please stop,” I whispered—it painted the worst version of me, regardless of how much I didn't want this there was still that stubborn part of me that has always been set on Elmo. I didn't want him to stop. He did exactly what he said he would, and I couldn’t help but like that.</p><p>I loved the way he held me down, forced me to the ground. It felt—almost right? He wasn't Scott, and that was okay. </p><p>Those same feelings from weeks prior resurfaced tonight—and they were telling me how much I actually wanted this. How it was a sick and twisted fantasy that is playing out with no planning. How everything I was feeling is now valid because of what Scott did to me.</p><p>Fuck him. </p><p>I was panting, trying to catch my breath but it wasn’t enough before he went to the other one to do the exact same thing. </p><p>“F-fuck.” My body shuddered underneath him, there was a laugh or something similar to that of a sound from his closed mouth. </p><p>My body was full of ache. He knew it. FUCK! I knew that he knew it. He was so good at reading me. Those few times he caught me in my inconsistent thoughts, the moments where my composure broke down and he would have a sense of pride. </p><p>He wasn't Scott—but part of me knew that if Scott wasn't an option he’d be the next big thing. </p><p>His skin was rubbing against my dick, pre-come had already been leaking from the tip. I was close, it’s been a long time since I’ve come this quick. I needed it now. </p><p>Do it. My mind kept racing with that word. I have nothing to lose now.</p><p>He pulled away from me, his fingers dug into my waist as he buried himself deep inside of me without any warning. My back lifted from the couch. Tossing my head back and a shock was over my whole body, my mouth was open but there was no sound. </p><p>My hands desperately searched for anything to hold onto. The gown was out of reach now. I didn’t want to rest my hands over his back but they found that familiar place anyway, my mind wanted to convince myself that it was just instinct but I knew what that really was. </p><p>“Almost as good as being inna bitch,” he breathed out in my ear through heavy pants. </p><p>A choppy “fuck you.” was my response. </p><p>His mouth was hovering over my shoulder now. I wasn't expecting it and it pulled me from the breathtaking feeling that I was feeling—I was unsure if it added more to the whole thing or if he did it from my response. </p><p>His teeth bit down over my shoulder. It wasn't anything light. He kept his hold as he pushed into me harder. A sting of broken down cries came from me and my fingers were willing to dig and scratch at his back. </p><p>Regardless, it was the peak. My head dug into the couch when I felt myself come all over myself. My body was slightly shaking, and luckily he came soon after. </p><p>He slipped off of me quickly. I didn't watch him dress. </p><p>My arms were heavy, and lifting them up was taking so much energy out of me. My fingers were cold, numb almost. I was still stuck on how good it felt. They didn't exist for a little. Until Elmo's voice but through it. </p><p>“You should clean this mess up.” I looked up at him, he was staring down at me. I looked away while still trying to catch my breath. I heard him walk away but I didn't care for that now. </p><p>Maybe my moans were louder than they should be or the actions. I wanted him to know that he couldn’t make me come like that anymore. But it was immediately hurt when I looked over at him. I fell from that act to go back into sadness. My head was spinning and tears were spilling down my cheeks. I sniffled while turning over on the couch to sit up. </p><p>“Ruby, whaddya get yourself into now?” His voice cut through my agony, and I hated hearing him. I didn't want to be around him any longer. </p><p>And knees willing to give way. The tears wouldn't stop and the profusion of tremors were hitting me hard. I grab my nightgown that had been laying next to the couch.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            </p><p>I needed to go somewhere else, I couldn’t be here anymore. I wanted to fall back, my knees couldn’t stop shaking. I just… I need some shit inside of me. I don’t care what it is. </p><p>“Where you goin' in such a hurry?” He grabbed my waist pulling me back into him. I was in such a hurry that I didn't even hear him get up. I closed my eyes and my hands came over my face.</p><p>“I, I just need to go, please, Scott.” I didn't pull away but my voice was breaking—and I was hoping he could give me at least a little pity and just let me leave. </p><p>“Drop that shit, you ain't gonna need it.” I let go of the gown. The silk fell over my foot and it was literal pain. </p><p>“I need to go home,” I whispered over my hand. </p><p>“But this is home, baby. Or what? You don’t like livin’ with Slicky no more?” He was breathing over my neck again. He kept pressing closer into me from behind. </p><p>His finger ran down the bite mark Elmo left on my shoulder. I flinched slightly. He laughed but brought himself down to place a kiss over it. </p><p>I became tense and wanted to throw up with the remembrance of what happened.</p><p>“That's fucked up but you deserve it,” he hummed. His hand slipped over to mine. He turned to sit on the couch he had been on. I stood still wondering where he wanted me, and that was more of a protocol type of thing. Sometimes he wanted me by his side, but mostly on his lap—and that's what this was now.</p><p>He rolled his eyes while breathing out, “it was a one-time thing, he just wanted to try you, alright? Plus, I kinda owed him for somethin’,” he laughed with no shame. </p><p>I blankly stared at his chest. I couldn't look him in the eyes—not tonight at least or maybe for a while. </p><p>And if there was ever any sadness in me it’s because of that moment they had together earlier. I won't forget it. All those times he’d be gone, he was with him. That same warmth/anger started to rile up from my gut again, also a profusion of tremors that came and went. </p><p>Fuck you. You can't be with him. I’m going to ruin you—you’ve already done it to me.</p><p>He pressed his face up against my neck. He was in that desperate mode, his open-palmed hands were running down my body. I was limp in his arms, he moved me around so easily. He trailed up my jawline until he forced his tongue into my mouth. Did he really want this or was he just trying to taste Elmo on me? </p><p>I closed my eyes, and for the first time—my hands dragged up his chest and rested over his neck to pull him closer to me—I didn't think of him.</p><p>//</p><p>That night was just a broken-off chunk of something bigger—a dark, piece of nothing wedged into the crevice of a wall. </p><p>And the backbone of that wall was so terrible (horrid even). I lost my sanity with him. If anyone questioned my demeanor he was to blame. He cut off any good morals and the sense of knowing what was acceptable. </p><p>I was ready to crush whatever thing he claimed to have with Elmo. </p><p>It isn't complicated to understand what his underlying intentions were. He liked me. He wouldn't have stared at me the way he did, nonetheless agree to such a thing. </p><p>He knew that I liked it. But most importantly, that moment we had, it was small but he gave me that look of wanting seconds. </p><p>I picked myself up from the carpet. Dwelling in my new room wasn't going to get me anywhere. Luckily, today I was alone—despite Scott being around, he didn't have an interest in me, like usual. He had been busy with something, I didn't care. </p><p>But I knew Elmo would be back. Maybe Scott didn't even know that I was here—well, that just made everything a whole lot easier. </p><p>9:30 pm </p><p>Come fuck me. </p><p>My finger hovered over the send button. No, I can do this in such a better way. </p><p>I threw on another nightgown this time a deep red one, something I picked out on my own. I knew he said that shit about me dressing like a “bitch” but that didn't stop me from this instance. For all I know the disgust could've been for show. Whatever it was, it was me and I wouldn't change that. </p><p>I stepped out when I didn't hear Scott anymore. I knew he was passed out from his binge.</p><p>In hand I had a wine glass—something I had brought to my room from earlier in the day. I poured into it a cheap wine that had been sitting in a cabinet.  </p><p>The atmosphere was already so different from the isolation in my room. The steps I took were riddled with fear because this was beyond anything I had ever done before. I wanted to turn around and forget this ever crossed my mind but it must've been my want for revenge that took me to the edge of the hallway. </p><p>As soon as I stood there, I could never turn back. He turned to look at me. He didn't say a thing. And like I had imagined, Scott was passed out. </p><p>I kept my eyes on his. I brought the glass up to my lips. My tongue swiped around the rim of it. </p><p>The cigarette he had been smoking was now being ignored.<br/>
I stuck two fingers into the liquid, I pulled them out to place them in my mouth, and with that I turned around.</p><p>That was enough to send the message I wanted. </p><p>I walked back into the darkness of my room, slowly slipping back into the bed. My head rested over the pillow, waiting for the second of music and light to come in only to drown out in the darkness. </p><p>And finally when it did I knew everything was about to change. It wasn't dread anymore, it was pure excitement. </p><p>He was standing there for a brief second before I felt the bed dip down behind me. My heart was pounding in my chest but I was smiling. </p><p>“I’ve always liked you, Ruby. Ever since I seen you. ” </p><p>There it was. Since the beginning?  Or did he realize how I'm worth everything after last night? It probably didn't matter, and maybe the answer was somewhere in between both. </p><p>I didn't say a thing. I wanted to see what else he would say. </p><p>“You act like you're too good for me. Never talkin’ to me and shit.” A small smile spread across my lips. Yeah, I'll take credit for that.</p><p>“But you want me here now.” his hand slipped in between my thighs. Once it did I pushed back into him. </p><p>“You like me too, don’t you? You like what I did to you.” His breath fanned over my neck. </p><p>“I loved it,” it was breathless and maybe it was part of the act. </p><p>My hand slipped down to hold his wrist, stopping him from going any further. “I want you. But you and Scott have something, don't you?”</p><p>“Yeah, but I've always wanted you.”</p><p>I turned my body to face him. My fingers came up to his chest. “What do you want me to do?”</p><p>It was hard to see him but I liked this. “Ride my dick like you ride his.”</p><p>And I was definitely going to enjoy this more than I should.</p><p>Regardless, that was the start to what we had. It was the worst I had ever been, but in between those fucked up moments there was pure bliss. I started to develop a taste for him.</p><p>It's terrifying to know that I went in with a plan to ruin what they had—when Elmo said he had feelings for me, I always thought it was a scheme to get to me.</p><p>“What would he do if he found us out?” I knew he had rolled his eyes, it was instinct to throw that question in every time we’d meet up. </p><p>The first few times (years ago) he’d usually go into a deep conversation about it, now he stayed quiet. Except for today, it must've been an exception. But there wasn't a full-on speech, it was short and an answer that ended any sort of conversation. “He shouldn’t be doin’ anything.” </p><p>I stood up, “you don't know him.” I knew he wasn't looking at me. I took my position by the wardrobe, the mirror over it gave me a perfect visual of him. </p><p>His figure slouched, his hair messily falling over him. But I could still see his face, even if it was slight. He hesitated to speak. </p><p>“Let’s leave then.”</p><p>“He’ll find us. He’ll do it for me.” I went down a second time to take in another line. I was already feeling light-headed from the sudden movement. </p><p>“How sure are you that it'll be for you?”</p><p>I brought myself back up, my eyebrows pushing together. </p><p>What?</p><p>I scoffed, “he fucking loves me, you think he’ll settle if I leave?”</p><p>“You've been wrong about it before.” </p><p>My face scrunched up, there was a light grind of my teeth too. </p><p>I knew how insensitive he could be, but he cut most of that dumb act when we were together. This was taking a turn to that cold person he gave off. </p><p>I just rolled my eyes while dragging a line in between the coke with the razor. It wasn't much that I needed it but it was more out of anxiety now that I was cutting random slits. </p><p>“How much of that shit you gon’ keep doing?” His voice made me stop but it was just getting me angry. </p><p>“You’re not him.”</p><p>“It’s unnatural, what the two of you have.” He looked away from me while shaking his head.</p><p>I dropped the card and turned around. “No, it’s unnatural how we started this. What did you think? That we were going to fall in love after you forced me?”</p><p>He stood up too, stepping closer, </p><p>“You forget that you were giving me advances? You put on a good act when it happened.”</p><p>“Advances?”</p><p>“Nah, don't even start that shit. You think it's normal that you went looking for me after that night? We’re alike, in more ways than you think.”</p><p>I stayed quiet. Holding myself while I looked down. Now my high was going to be fucked up from this argument. There wasn't a way to pick it back up. Not that I wanted to anyway. </p><p>I wanted to be alone now. I didn't care how little we see each other now. But it didn't stop, rather he didn't stop. </p><p>He seemed to have all of this pent up anger. This must've been lurking for a while now. “You idolize a man with no self-worth. You’ve no idea of the things he’s done for me.”</p><p>I kept my view on the floor because I hated hearing that. </p><p>“You wanna know what he’d do if he found us out?”</p><p>“We both willingly got involved. But he’ll convince himself that it was you who dragged me into this. Are you even aware of what he’s really like? I tell you of all the sick shit he says about you but you just don't stop.”</p><p>“You only want me around ‘cause he worships me.”</p><p>“No, you know it's not like that,” I quickly said while dragging my eyes over his. Now I could entirely see the hurt and anger he was feeling. I frowned and decided to stay quiet. The remorse of bringing the whole thing back up was gnawing me down.</p><p>“Tell you what. I’m fuckin’ TIRED OF HIM HANGING OFF MY DICK!”</p><p>“Tired of you — not giving a fuck about me.”</p><p>“It’s fuckin’ unnatural. You ain’t normal. Far from.” </p><p>Was he leaving? I walked over to him. “Wait. Elmo, don’t leave me.” My hands were over his chest, I was looking up at him but he didn't want to look at me. </p><p>“Elmo, I love you—so much.” I was starting to break. </p><p>“He's so deep in my skin. I can't quit him. You're right I’m not normal. I’m so fucked up to you. We only see each other once a week and I ruin it each time.”</p><p>“I’ll make it up to you. It’s what you want isn’t it?” </p><p>He turned to look down at me with a scowling look. “That’s your fuckin’ problem.”</p><p>“What?” </p><p>“You think you can fix everything with sex.” He grabbed my wrists.</p><p>I stared at his hands before I looked back up at him, my voice was desperate, “no, I just- It’s all he’s ever given me.” The tears were starting to form and I know he won't stay any longer. </p><p>My breath cuts off when he pushes me off of him. “Fuck off me.”</p><p>I fell to my knees. I have no fits of rage in me left. I realize that it’s not just rage that I’ve lost but every emotion too. At least the ugly ones stayed—they always do. I rested my head over the carpet and let the tears go wherever they wanted and miss whoever they wanted. I was in my room—alone, again. </p><p>That was a few months ago—but this was only 2 weeks ago.</p><p>“Look at this shit.” His hand came up to my face. I flinched and backed away due to the stinging. </p><p>It was weird or maybe new being with Elmo in Scott's house. It was something unexpected. </p><p>He sighed while stepping closer. I rested my head over his chest. But everything we did was done quickly, except for this. He held me and I didn't want him to let go of me. </p><p>Scott could walk in any second but he seemed to not care right now. He kissed me on my forehead.</p><p>“Listen to me.” His soft voice floated in one of the rooms we decided to go into. I stared up at him. </p><p>“We can get away from this.” I didn't want that—not yet, at least. It's so hard for me to leave—but everyday, the idea was starting to grow on me.</p><p>I hated going back into my explanation. I knew he was tired of hearing it over and over again. “It’s not that-” We both stood stiff hearing Scott call out for him. </p><p>His tone was cold, almost demanding. “okay,” I mumbled. </p><p>He was about to speak but instead he quickly let go of me before the door swung open.</p><p>“What’re you doin’?” He was calling for Elmo but now he was directing the question towards me. </p><p>“Ruby, what the hell are you doin’, huh?!” He was about to snap, and I knew that he wouldn't hold restraint against me despite Elmo being here. </p><p>“Nothing, just-” I tripped over my words. My eyes looking at him then at the ground. </p><p>“I just wanted to say hi.” Elmo spoke up, a rough tone in his voice and it made Scott calm down. Fucking bitch. </p><p>He kept his eyes over me. “Don’t pay this fag any mind, El.”</p><p>He turned back to look at me—his eyes were soft but there was a trace of anger—not towards me. </p><p>Half of me didn't want him to feel like that. </p><p>I turned around, heading for the sliding door to smoke a cigarette. How is it possible that Scott was blind to what was going on? </p><p>I dragged it before twisting it—it’s not that, he idolizes Elmo. Any wrongdoing from him never existed in Scott’s mind. </p><p>Elmo has told me on several occasions (despite not wanting to hear because it’s painful but curiosity led me down the path) of how their—well, dynamic is. </p><p>He holds no faults and Elmo told me about “slip ups” that he had in between their relationship--but that didn’t matter to Scott. He wanted to be by his side all the time, he became clingy. There were other things but they were leaving my mind now. </p><p>But when he told me all of those things, it was so familiar, because I had lived it through my eyes—he was the person who had gone missing years ago. His personality was found alive, and it didn't want to come back home with me.</p><p>I was tired. It's clear, painfully. </p><p>Give me a month. We’ll leave. </p><p>The message sat on read. Scott’s probably talking to him or maybe he found it now. Who knows what he’ll do. I don't want to be around when it happens. </p><p>I opened another chat before leaving his house and making plans to leave back to the place I bought a year ago. </p><p>Hey. You still in London? I hit the send. I don’t regret it either. </p><p>A minute didn't pass before George replied. </p><p> </p><p>oooooooo8<br/>
We were destined to fail. The people that came into our lives — regardless of the damage they caused or didn’t—could never tell us how fucked-up everything would get. </p><p>But the longer I stayed, the more I didn’t want to go. </p><p>Still, I should’ve seen the end coming. When the doubts started to filter out with us, I should’ve left. I will always love him and that love will never go away but my place isn't here anymore. </p><p>I’ll leave once we get to the motel. When he’s asleep, I’ll run into the night. </p><p>He won’t miss me. </p><p>It’s happened before, this time, I’ll actually do it.</p><p>I had the highest euphoria driving down the streets. The cold wanted to grab me and lay me over the concrete just so I could die there. The cars that sped on the opposite lane were vulnerable to my “accidental” swerving. An unwanted (maybe) splurge of elusive or destructive ideas spun around in my head. But none of those things ever came alive or close to me to do their bidding. </p><p>I wanted to be taken away from this by something — anything. Late thoughts turned into this want and that want had a longer life span as the days went on. </p><p>I turned down the empty street. The hours crawling into the A.M.. I couldn’t turn to look at him but I knew his eyes were over me for most of the drive. </p><p>I came to my own terms that I had to be that something that took me out of this. </p><p>With each second, I wanted to get as far away as possible — then again I needed to be here.</p><p>Desolate lights spread over the black backdrop. I was at the wheel this time around. And that didn’t come around without a sour punch to the gut from dirty remarks. </p><p>Another tour, another personality change. Another show, another night of horror. I wiped away the tears that had no chance to even slip down my face. It didn’t even matter anyway, he never noticed, he never will. </p><p>I was trying my hardest to block out the evening that transpired. Back at the venue, shit was just awful. He said things, and I didn’t want to even have a fragment of it stuck in my head. My efforts were pointless, the night was going to replay once I was alone. </p><p>But not if I got out of this; if I went “missing”.</p><p>We were here and my heart was willing to drop. I unwillingly found myself walking into the room, my bag clutched in my right hand.</p><p>Painfully, I heard him walk in. Mounted over the bed was a clock, it spun but the time was slow. I could feel the sweat at the top of my brow but I found it unnecessary to wipe it away. </p><p>I knew he was coming, and I feared it. </p><p>I didn’t know how to face him. I didn’t know what he wanted to do. Maybe it’d be those nights where he would completely ignore me. Or better yet: leave.</p><p>But it wasn’t that. It’s like if he always knew what I didn’t want and he gave me just that. </p><p>He was behind me. Pressed up to me as if he had forgotten everything he spewed about me, and not just tonight, I knew of all the things that he would say behind closed doors. </p><p>“You miss me?” </p><p>I stared at his hands, the way they smoothed around my hips, dragging with open palms and my stomach felt weak. </p><p>No.</p><p>I felt stale, yet, I knew I was loose in his arms. He liked that version of me, it wasn’t hard to tell. To him, I wasn’t a “complex thing” to work with, more of an easy night. When I was in this — “fucked up” episode, (that was recurring here and there) it was easy for him to bend me towards a variety of his impulses.</p><p>And now, my strained eyes watched the clock. His, filled with amusement over my body. And it was back to a night of giving him what he wanted.</p><p>This was greed on his part. My part was somewhere lost between a hopeless, broken or forgetful mind. </p><p>Regardless of every shit feeling, hateful conversation directed towards me or my unwanted presence, I was ready to break, he knew that. </p><p>I couldn’t stand not having him, I hated that. I love his scent, the way he came around like he owned every part of me. I craved it—so fucking bad. I was never one for a good morality and there wasn’t a reason to go back on that stupid realization. </p><p>I allowed it to get this far. Maybe that’s why he held me with so much certainty. </p><p>He pushed me back into him forcefully, his fingers slightly digging into my hips, “Cherry?” His tongue clicked with a purr of a tone. He was smiling but I knew the patience was running thin and I would be forced to play out any act he wanted. </p><p>The nickname, that was breaking me to hear now, A cruel reminder? Probably. </p><p>We were doing that. I needed to find stability — at least to play along with this. </p><p>It wasn't going to be a simple night. </p><p>Things were a little off though. I started to pick up on it in a few other instances that were similar to this evening. Yeah, I admitted to wanting him all the fucking time but that didn’t mean that it was the same feeling, now it was toning down with flaws. Irreplaceable feelings were now dyed with failure. It was awful having stains on my want for him. </p><p>That certain want for him and the want to get out of this mess wasn’t equal, not that it ever was, now the second one was dangerously tipping the scale. And that was new, it wasn’t ‘till tonight that it started to “act up”.</p><p>Then again, was one last fuck really going to ruin me? Change my mind? No. It’ll get me through the rest of my life if I can have him just one last time. Plus, it was already in my blood, and there was no way of taking it out. </p><p>I could fill in the steps—the role.</p><p>“Always do.” It was almost a choke, but I managed to spit it out. I wanted to sound more convincing but I had to garner up those things to fit the suggestive role. </p><p>“I know, I just love it when you say it.” I knew he was closing his eyes, that peaceful look over his aging features.</p><p>How much more did we have of this? How many more episodes could he make? We're both getting too old for it.</p><p>I let myself lean back into him. The tension of my body had to go, the dead-eyed look too—possibly that negative mentality, as well. The first steps to get the act right. </p><p>“I got something for you,” he hummed, and it was always alleviating to hear an optimistic tone coming from him.  </p><p>“What is it?” It wasn’t monotone, yet, not excited. I kept it steady with a tinge of energy, but also raspy. I was only getting into the role now -- soon, I’d have it sold. </p><p>“You’re gonna love it,” he clicked his tongue, there was a bit of laughter, it was more playful than anything. He pressed his groin into my backside before letting go completely to walk back to the car. I watched his shadow over the carpet while he did so.</p><p>I gave the room another look, and I couldn’t take in the worthless details prior to walking in. Now I could, and it was beyond crucial to me. I needed to know where to be, where to place Cherry. It would be the reinforcement to this. </p><p>My fingers slightly fidgeted as I pressed them up against the cold wood of the dresser. It had a mirror right against it. I pulled my hair back, leaning into it and squinting. </p><p>I watched him from the mirror. He locked the door behind him. My heart was pounding in my chest. He had his backpack in his hand. He threw it over the bed and pulled out a bottle of wine. </p><p>That was surprising to see. What was he planning with this? I watched him pull out a single glass before walking over to me.</p><p>He poured the wine carefully while he was walking over to me. I had turned around now. He was smiling as he handed it to me. I watched him place the bottle on the surface. </p><p>The room was crowd-less, but he was pressed up against me, leaving me confined. </p><p>“I wanna watch you drink it,” he whispered.</p><p>I was hoping for anything — that worked too. I brought the glass up to my lips. The smell of it was dull, not something I would be attracted to, the taste was flat but not yet a smooth feel. I tended to stick towards harsher, deeper flavors but this was fine. </p><p>The detail was more than nice. The fact that he had even brought this for me—something I love—was making me fall into the role easily. </p><p>His eyes were fixed over my lips. The heat of his breath was lightly fanning over my mouth. </p><p>He leaned in closer, his eyes closing. I stayed still, my eyes watched him tilt his head while he stuck his tongue out. There wasn't a kiss. He swiped his tongue across my bottom lip slowly, licking up the taste of the wine completely. </p><p>He looked at me smiling. Both of his hands cupped my face. </p><p>I took another drink, a little more than last time. My tongue was attempting to get used to the taste. I leaned my head back slightly, my mouth opening wider. </p><p>I closed my eyes wanting to fully enjoy this. He brought his lips over mine. This time kissing me. His tongue slid across my own tongue then dragged over the roof of my mouth. </p><p>My fingers feathered down his chest. Blindly I was aiming for his arm. I took a hold of it to bring it up to my chest.</p><p>I was starting to like that we were doing this. I found the stability that I needed to play along with this. Not only that but I knew that this could never happen if it were only us. </p><p>And going in-depth a little more over Cherry. He gave me the nickname—of course, fashioned from my stage-name. He said it was more feminine, more fitting. </p><p>And the description? He had a few. Most of them were thrown around even when the topic was completely irrelevant. </p><p>I rolled my eyes. The table was the only thing keeping us apart. There was a skull-crushing headache from last night’s binge, he was pure enthusiasm. </p><p>It was the second night we had played as them. I thought there wasn't going to be further tweaking to the whole idea of it. But he came in from the bedroom. </p><p>It was amusing to me when he would come back to me with a better origin than the previous one. </p><p>There was a point where he was obsessed with this. The whole meeting with different people.</p><p>Something about seeing me on stage, across from each other, the flashing lights behind me and my hair falling over me perfectly. I was yelling into the mic. Rougher overtones but still with high vanity.</p><p>Famous, but not enough.</p><p>Meeting up in run down motels every now and then. We knew nothing about each other, just our names and appearances—what we stood for, basically our image as musicians. But still there was never any strings attached. </p><p>Now, in my current state I think I would rather prefer that version. </p><p>Irritation was starting to rise between the fabric and his finger. He had been circling my nipple with his finger like I wanted but my shirt was getting in the way. My face started to heat up, I needed more. </p><p>“You make me do bad things. You make me lose balance with my sobriety,” he spoke over my lips, his eyes were still closed. He said it with a tinge of regret. He knew that he shouldn't be doing this. </p><p>“I’m the fucking worst.” With a lip bite I brought him up to my lips. I couldn't be held accountable for what Cherry did, even if it were for his sobriety. That wasn't my problem, his dick was the only thing I worried about. </p><p>He left my lips to lean into me. His face pressed up against my neck while leaving a trail of kisses in between puffs of breath. My back arched from it. His fingers grabbed the ends of my shirt to pull it off of me. I raised my arms slightly while he brought it up, then he threw it somewhere on the ground. Finally no more fabric of a border.</p><p>I watched him back away an inch or two, his eyes centered over my chest now. </p><p>“That’s fucking nice.” His voice was deep, it was his, he owned what he was touching and looking at. He was letting me know that with the way he was speaking.</p><p>He knew how to touch me right so why not? His palms smoothed around my chest. The tips of his fingers touching my nipples. </p><p>He completely stopped and set on something new. I was left disappointed. He took the glass from my hand gently. He—my eyes intently watched with parted lips—slowly tilted the glass over my neck. I gasped when it slipped down my chest. </p><p>He watched the streaks of red with a slight smile. </p><p>“Lick it off,” I spoke without hesitation, and he didn't waste another second. He started where the wine was still dripping—which was almost at my stomach. He stopped it with his tongue. </p><p>Another gasp, this time mixed with a flinch came from me. </p><p>“Don't move, baby,” he mumbled. My legs felt weak hearing him say that. His arm slid around my waist to keep me in place. </p><p>He ran up my body, stopping at my shoulder. One streak was completely gone. He dipped down again, this time pulling it quicker. My skin was crawling from the feel of his tongue. </p><p>I felt the ache over me with the heat that I was feeling.I wanted to touch myself but I couldn't come, not so early at least. Instead, my hand hovered over his head as he did it again. </p><p>He dragged his tongue down my neck slowly, my breath hitching in my throat. With that same grip he pulled me in closer, now my skin was completely pressed up to his teeth.  </p><p>I winced when his teeth scraped down in a biting motion. He held a small pinch of skin in between his teeth. </p><p>My hand came up to his back. A broken whine fell from my lips. </p><p>He let go this time going to my chest—what I had been waiting for.</p><p>I followed his movements, my eyes filled with eagerness and lust. He bit down gently over my nipple. My back arched right then. My fingers were digging into his back when he held it down tighter. His tongue ran over the tip several times. </p><p>He knew how much I loved this—that's why he was doing this. Was this his way of saying sorry to me? I'd forgive him for anything if this will always be the apology. </p><p>My hand found his. I held it tightly after a cry came from me. I could hardly take it. But looking down at him in that position, his other arm holding me steady—it was always my favorite view.</p><p>“F–uck, Anthony,” I breathed out.</p><p>Right, his alter ego.</p><p>“Nah, nah, fuck the bar thing.” He walked in almost yelling while I was trying to sleep. </p><p>“I got somethin’ better.” He sat on the bed, his hand running down my back. </p><p>“What?” I mumbled into the pillow annoyed.</p><p>Stumbling in with a deteriorating soul, he attracted the image of a delicate lover. An ethereal-like entity with soft vocals over a beautiful melody. </p><p>Anthony Mars</p><p>The other half of a psychedelic band.</p><p>Draping in everything I ever wanted, he was the reason I would stay up at night and wait for that late night call. </p><p>But how did it start?</p><p>The simplicity of our existence was being here. The hopeless crawling and scratching of our souls could be marked as redundant in red print, and it stood out; bold.</p><p>It wasn't needed to be said that I wouldn't show a single appearance here anymore. That my nights were about to be altered, and in such a way that could slip me into addiction. </p><p>Hidden behind a cigarette is where I used to be. Back pressed to the uneven bricks of the nightclub, my achievements soaked into them. And going back to the Newport, that was just the initiator of my night. </p><p>Dragging myself back to the 8th floor of the hotel room, I’d be flying. Eyes in a clouded reality, auras of serenity, and anything pretty. </p><p>But this was far from any drug addiction—it was so much better. </p><p>He pressed me up against the wall. He came here with his friends and possibly with other intentions but he left all of that behind when he saw me. </p><p>My eyes stared up at his. Neon lights illuminated every beautiful aspect he had to offer. There was that up turn of his lips—the one I had been waiting for.</p><p>I grabbed his hand to place it over the small of my back to let him know that I wanted his touch over my body, and that the feeling was being received on both ends.</p><p>He found me at the worst moment in his life. Likable, appealing, salacious—a distraction from his miserable life.</p><p>My hand ran up his arm, stopping at his elbow. I’ve always liked that about Anthony. I wanted to know what each one of them meant.</p><p>He leaned into me. The music was pouring through the club, it was hard to hear anything but I could hear his delicate voice clearly. “I’ve watched you on stage.” </p><p>His hand rested over my waist now. “You put on such a show.” </p><p>That was another thing to like about him, the way he admired me. He watched every move as if it were for the first time. I couldn't describe the immediate lust that was in his eyes. </p><p>“Give me a private dance.”</p><p>A smile spread across my lips. He took my hand in his to lead me away, “come on.” </p><p>And he took Cherry to the back of the crowded nightclub and fucked him there. Needless to say, that was the perfect intro, thought up by him—I wouldn't have it any other way, that night started every encounter.</p><p>Fuck, he was going to make me come but I couldn't with just this. I needed him inside of me—I wanted it. </p><p>My hand came up to his shoulder to push him off. He let go knowing what I was aiming for now. </p><p>His fingers interlaced with my own as he leaned into me. The heat of his breath was fanning over my cheek. </p><p>We held eye-contact—something that was a fail when it'd be us. He grinned, “you know what I want, don't you?”</p><p>I nodded—almost desperately, “yeah.” The smile I had over my heated face never left. I pulled my hair out of my face, my hand still taken with his. </p><p>I took him to the edge of the bed. He watched my hands run down his chest. I gripped the ends of his shirt to undress him. That alone was something so erotic to me. To him it was just part of this but it was a highlight in my eyes. I followed my hands as they smoothed around his ink. </p><p>My fingertips delicately dragged down to the waistband of his shorts. I pulled them down but I never went down on my knees. I took a hold of his length, stroking it a few times while leaning up to kiss him. But it wasn't the next step to this, it wasn't the thing we wanted. </p><p>Both of my hands came up to his chest now. I pulled away to push him onto the bed. </p><p>For a brief moment I stayed in my spot, just watching him lay there as he waited for me. I was the epitome of his attention. There wasn't a single thing on this earth that could pull him out of that deep trance. </p><p>My whole body was garnering up an ache. It wasn't an emotion of being star struck or falling into a warm exemplar of love but rather an almost violent take, mostly power. </p><p>There could've been a number of different acts I could execute—if there was no context of course. I always thought about fucking him. What would it be like if I were on the other end of that rope?</p><p>He wouldn't want it of course, but hell I wasn't asking. </p><p>I wonder how he would react to it? What if there was a moment where he began to cry? Would he just stay quiet the whole time? Would he just be angry and threaten me? Or what if he liked it? Nah, there's no way, with the image he has of me.</p><p>Regardless of what he would do, the idea was making my body ache more, now I was wrapped in that certain heat that wouldn't be alievated until I came. </p><p>My eyes outlined him. So many things were at my fingertips, they could've flown or failed. Even if I didn't get to fuck him today, maybe some day, I'll do it—even if it's not consensual. </p><p>Still, I was taking the lead to what was going on now. I climbed into the bed. My knees dipping into the blanket he was on. I crawled over his body. My hands rested on his chest, my hair was brushing over him as I leaned down to kiss him. </p><p>His hands rose up to run down my back. The skin to skin contact was making me melt. His fingers over me~  My hands on his, sometimes I forget how much I love touching him.</p><p>I pulled away to kiss his jaw and then his neck. Something he wasn't too fond of but he let me do it. I bit slightly causing him to tense up, he wanted to hide how much he liked it but I could tell from how his body was reacting. I bit down where the edges of his sun tattoo were at.</p><p>His fingers ran down my chest, he needed to hold something—or rather get me to do what he had been waiting for. Pre-come had been dripping from the tip of my dick. His fingers swiped it up only to stick it in his mouth. </p><p>Fuck- </p><p>I couldn't breathe just from seeing him do that. It's been so long since he's done anything like that. </p><p>I pulled away from him, sitting tall but not yet over him, it was more of a hover over his length. I flicked my hair back, and I made sure he had his eyes on me. I lifted my hand up to my face, I stuck my tongue out over my pointer and middle finger. </p><p>My eyes looked down at them before dragging it back to him. I smiled before sticking my fingers in my mouth to be wrapped around my tongue. </p><p>They were fully coated in saliva now. I stuck them inside of me. My eyebrows pushed together; going for an innocent face. </p><p>He watched every move breathlessly. A smile was over me as my hands came down to his lower body to help me adjust myself over his lap. </p><p>I eased down slowly over his length. My hair covered my face as puffs of breath covered my atmosphere. </p><p>“Shit.” I tossed my head back loving the feel already. </p><p>My hands were still over his lower body to let him know that he couldn't move his hips, that I was the one dictating over how this was going to go. </p><p>I rolled my hips. After a while I lifted a single hand from his hip one so it could pull my hair back and run down my body slowly. He huffed while watching me.</p><p>The way I rode it, I owned it~</p><p>And this bitch knew it too. </p><p>His lips curled as his fingers brushed down my chest as I leaned into him, to whisper, “it’s mine.” My hands crawled up to his neck. </p><p>“It's fucking mine, bitch.” My thumb pressed down over his windpipe. </p><p>His face was turning a darker shade and it was getting harder for him to breathe but he still had a smile over his face, and I hated it. I hated that he was enjoying this. This wasn't acting anymore, this wasn't Cherry speaking, it was me. </p><p>Cherry always had that trait of being somewhat dominant. I never understood why he liked it. But this was different. I wanted to hurt him now. I wanted to punch him for all the times he had done it to me. </p><p>Fuck him. If I could be who I truly was with him he wouldn't stand a chance in my presence. I could tear him to pieces but he kept that version of me enclosed, unknowingly. </p><p>I was filled with an unexplainable anger—but that feeling was over, it was killed just by staring at him a while longer. It was almost as if I should know my place with him. As if I'm supposed to be Cherry just for his entertainment. </p><p>I wasn't sure if he — or I could even find that version of me outside of this certain sexual encounter. Those nights, where these personas came in moderation. It really depended on the mood or the events surrounding said period of time. </p><p>It wasn't hard to figure out why an episode was running now. He didn't want to see me. He didn't want a confrontation from what he said earlier. He wanted the dumb, easy broad that bounced on his dick.</p><p>It seemed like what he had in mind always had to be acknowledged.</p><p>Even when fucking him, it was hard to have a clear mind. All of this started to mix into so many unwanted feelings instead of pleasure. </p><p>It was sure as hell stale now but I wasn't letting it go to waste. Even if the feelings tied to this weren't pretty. I could always imagine a different scenario—similar to the one he was seeing now. He was Anthony, and he was madly in love with me. There was no immorality to his soul. The wine really did help of course.</p><p>“Yeah, you own that shit, don’t you, Cherry?” He huffed out. Was I tiring him out? A smile crept over me as I brought my hips down with more force. </p><p>“Fu—ck, you know that I do.” He loved it when I said those things but I could hardly speak now with the way I was taking it. </p><p>With an atmosphere of shallow breaths, my hair enclosed my face making it hard to see him. He groaned, his grip over my waist became harsher.</p><p>Over already?</p><p>I stared at him, my body stopping when he started bucking his hips upward. He had his arm over his eyes. I kissed my teeth not feeling anything even remotely close to what he was feeling. </p><p>One final push. My body was soaked and his too. I could feel it filling me up, the warmth made me shiver—despite the whole thing being so short, I can't deny that I love having him nut inside of me. And maybe that was the exception to all of this. Still, he didn't even realize that I didn’t come. Was it the age that was making him suck at this or was it the fact that I was nothing to him anymore?</p><p>I rolled off of him. The come dripped down my legs. It left a dotted trail as I found my usual place at the edge of the bed. My fingers, on instinct, pulled the pillow towards myself only to place it over the lower half of my body. </p><p>I tried to catch my breath and fix up my composure for the next minutes that he’d still be interested in me. Maybe he wouldn’t. I was hoping for that. But he was staring at me. I pretended like I wasn't aware of it. It always played out like this, after every “finale”. </p><p>Recently, I just wanted to yell “WHAT?!” but I kept it to myself. </p><p>“You're getting fat.” That rang in my head, almost as if it was scheduled for him to say it again. But nothing was coming in between us — at least, not yet. </p><p>My mind dragged back to when the insult was thrown towards me. It wasn't the first — but maybe it was the last time we had played as the personas?</p><p>“What do you want from me, Scott?” As if my body wasn't sore from giving him what he wanted. “I’m busy with shit, you think I got time for that?”</p><p>He sat up. “With what, bitch?” Moments ago he was unbothered, I was giving him what he asked for and now he was angry—and of course, there were underlying issues. It wasn't fair that he let it out with me.</p><p>I matched his energy. I wasn't on the end of taking his shit tonight. “Fuck you mean with what?” </p><p>“You just write your lines, I give you a platform.” He instantly responded, I knew that he’s thought about it before, maybe even believing that to be true. </p><p>“Put it out.” He tossed the cigarette and that final blow towards me.</p><p>“Fuck you,” muttering under my breath I stood up to leave. It didn't matter where, even if I would spend the night in the car. I didn't care. </p><p>It threw me back here. Back to my worthless self. His hand slid into my view. He set my validation and for tonight — with what he was doing now — he set it high. The ink on his fingers was drawn out to me. I followed them as they moved up to my thigh.</p><p>He wanted something. Fuck— I was willing. </p><p>Half of me was still lurking in that mindset. Possibly the side-effects from existing as Cherry. </p><p>The other half of me was reeling back and striking at my sides, a reminder to get away from this. The foundation that I once stood on was now tearing, and remorseful hollers were cascading in different octaves. I could cut him off right now, get up and shower. He wouldn't be angry — after one of these nights he usually had no energy.</p><p>“Imma take you somewhere nice tomorrow.” He was smiling and that made me want to do the same but I held myself from that. His eyes were centered over mine and he knew I was avoiding his.</p><p>“Yeah?” I wasn't sure if my artificial amusement was coming through or not. I could've sounded so uninterested, it's not like it mattered anyway.</p><p>He yawned while pulling his hand away and I tensed up, wanting it back — he caught it. </p><p>I looked over at him, his eyes were already closed. </p><p>“Snort some coke off my dick like you used to.” </p><p>It was back to that sour, pricking feeling. I was the entertainment for something he couldn’t do anymore. I nodded — even though he wasn't watching me — while pulling the hair strands that were stuck to my neck and face. </p><p>“Fucking bet.” I fought the urge to roll my eyes or kiss my teeth. </p><p>Fiddling with the ends of the pillow, I couldn't find another thing to add. It didn't matter if it sounded fake. Plus there was that familiar movement of the blanket. My eyes moved over to him. His face was dug into the pillow now. </p><p>I squinted, taking my view to the drywall. A slow nod while pursing my lips, “I’m gonna shower.” </p><p>“Mhmm,” he hummed half asleep. </p><p>I pulled a light purple, silk bathrobe from my bag. My escape plan was still en route.</p><p>I watched him from across the room, my gown folded in between my arms. The palpitation of my heart was irregular. My fingers seemed to slip off of any surface they came in contact with, even my own skin. </p><p>A shaky exhale was lost in between his light snores. </p><p>I vaguely envisioned us at the place we were at with the wine hours ago. The heat of the carpet under my feet was keeping me in place. Indecisiveness came into existence, and I wanted to roll in grief. </p><p>I turned around, hoping to wash away the plans from my head as well.</p><p>///</p><p>The cramped position that I was in — that wasn’t the problem now. </p><p>I felt the heat of the lamp on my thighs, and the protruding click of the clock was banging in my head. The beat of my heart was never consistent throughout the rest of night. And my anxiety was just patches of burns in different areas of my body. </p><p>I turned to him, he was still asleep. Subtle snores came from him, I wanted to snuggle right into his arms but the time was running out. Plus, I’m more than sure that he would push me away. </p><p>It didn't matter how much he loved Cherry. It was like a timer, the moment I was off his dick, it started to count down. Unfortunately, I figured that out the hard way, not once but four times. </p><p>I don't learn. Or is it just the fact that I give him too much credit for caring for me when I should be giving him none?</p><p>Could that version of me even live in the real world? In the terms of functioning with day-to-day tasks? Probably not. I couldn't even begin to understand how twisted my life would become if I completely morphed into Cherry.</p><p>Part of me — I turned to look at him from behind my shoulder — wished that I could somehow wake up as that person.</p><p>I pulled the silk bathrobe upwards while standing up and tying it tightly around my waist. I kept my eyes on him, despite making no noise, but who knows, it could be one of those nights where the slightest sound woke him up and I would be the one to hold “reparations” for it. </p><p>I walked towards the window. Lightly, I pulled the blinds down. My fingers came over the wet window to wipe away the fog. </p><p>It was a longing look, I could be in upstate New York or something by morning. </p><p>The plan was simple: slip the keys and leave everything behind. I’d take the car of course, empty my cards and go wherever. </p><p>I’d leave like this too, I could change clothes when I was in the next city. I’d have to throw my phone away, cutting contact with everyone else was the best thing to do. </p><p>It pained me that I could never go back home though. I couldn’t drive down there, it’d be too risky, what if he was waiting for me there?</p><p>I looked at the nightstand, the keys were right there. It’s so easy to walk over there, take them and just go. </p><p>But I didn’t do that. </p><p>I closed the blinds and went over to the couch; staring at nothing in particular until the sun came up, and he woke up only to invade my personal space on the couch.</p><p>Dead-eyed, sunken-eyed, blue or black-eyed.</p><p>“You wish you could have me all the time.”</p><p>Frizzy hair and numb limbs. His fingers were on my neck but I never looked him in the eyes. </p><p>You have no idea what I want.</p><p>Just because we had a good night, I stayed. As if shit wasn’t going to get worse. As if it wasn’t an act from his side to get me to do what he wanted. As if he wasn’t talking shit about me when I’m not around. </p><p>I pulled my knees up to my chest, the glass of wine was already in my hand. The door closed after he said something about being back until the nighttime. </p><p>I just knew that I would miss all of it...</p><p> </p><p> [[[[[[[[[[[[9</p><p>I had to think about how we started this--today will (finally) mark the last day we’d be together. The plan was already stained in my head it was only a matter of actually executing the first step—if I did that, I’d be forced to never look back and that was a good thing morally, but a devastating thing for me. </p><p>I stared at the dash. The rain had finally stopped and I wanted to feel the wind over my skin, I wanted to feel alive, just one more time—with him. Even if he wasn't with me—as long as his presence was here. I could pretend that it was like back then.</p><p>I couldn't re-do another night at the motel. The only thing I was capable of doing was living the few hours that lead to us getting there and him falling asleep—and maybe it wouldn't be that, the moment he gets busy or does something, I’ll do it. </p><p>I make a move to lean closer. Mentally, I’ve prepared in the short amount of time.<br/>
“Tie your hair up first, I ain’t want none of your loose strands on my shit, again.” </p><p>“Right,” I nodded while rolling my eyes, I reached for my bag. Luckily he hadn't turned to look at me. I pull out an old scrunchie I carry around. </p><p>Lately (I’m not sure why) he’s asked me to do this. Was it gross to him? He’d have my spit all over him anyway. I cut the over thinking and tied my hair up in a loose ponytail. </p><p>I leaned in closer to him, his eyes glanced down at the way I fixed myself before he took his stare back to the road. My knees pressed into the fluff of the seat and half of my upper body was on top of the ? and over him. I was definitely in a position that would mean a quick death if we crashed. </p><p>My face was right next to his lap now. I was only an inch or two away from his growing erection—was it the forceful demand that got him like this? It couldn't be that he wanted me. </p><p>My hands skimmed down the fabric of his basketball shorts. Easily, I could've been greedy—like in other instances. And whenever I was going in with that approach it came with some dialogue from him: “You love it” or something of that nature. But now I was concentrating on him. Moving at my own pace, and it definitely matched today’s mood.</p><p>Regardless of whatever way I pleasured him, it was never sloppy—still so talented, he said. He admitted—time and time again—that I’m the best, and if it wasn't for degradation, it was to clear his mind. It was an on-and-off thing with good experiences and bad. Undoubtedly, I accepted the idea that it wasn't about how I felt but rather how I was about to make him feel. And no matter what came before or what was to come, my goal was to make him love every second of what I was giving to him.</p><p>Hands first, tongue second. That order was imprinted in my mind, it's the way he liked it.</p><p>My fingers delicately pulled the waistband down. It was with little effort to have him out. Now his dick was pushing up to my cheek. My heart felt light just seeing hs it right in front of me. It's been 2 months—maybe more since we’ve been in these circumstances. I’d be lying if I said I didn't miss it.</p><p>Instantly, I wanted to wrap my lips around it. I knew he wanted it too, but I didn't want to rush things just yet.</p><p>My palm pressed against his dick now. I pulled back slightly to watch my hand wrap around him and move upwards slowly. </p><p>Low huffs of breaths eased from my lips over his tip. I could already feel that slight motion from him, he wanted to move around or buck his hips upwards into my mouth. But that wasn't an option—at least not in the car. </p><p>Not slow but the pace wasn't going up either. I needed to hear it from him first. That exchange of words or my name being called from overhead. I stopped my hand from moving. My thumb started to rub the head of his dick in circular motions, periodically applying more pressure or loosing it up. </p><p>Pre-come was already dripping so I took one quick lick of it before returning my tongue back to my mouth. It was a sharp slide across it, and I knew that it's what was going to push him.</p><p>“Ruby,” he breathed out heavily so much so that I could feel it over my hair. It raised the corners of my mouth only slightly. There it was~ </p><p>I stuck my tongue out and leaned into him to replicate what my thumb had been doing. I heard him take a quick inhale that lead into a groan, and that gave me my validation to keep going. I slid my tongue down the side of his dick leaving a trail of saliva before I ran up against it again. This time my lips were at the tip, I graudually opened my mouth to take it all in.</p><p>My mouth slid down while my tongue curling around it. There was a double intake of breath from him. I slid upwards and than down, my pace becoming quicker but still keeping it at a rhythmic pattern. </p><p>He had that tendency to speed up when I was over him. Possibly a sense of adrenaline? Or did he want to die while getting sucked off? It didn't matter, with the groans and mumbles from him, it could be anything. </p><p>He had been pushing 55-60 despite the 45 speed limit. Now he was ~70. Sometimes I could catch a quick glimpse at the window. The trees and sky were beyond a blur, the colors merging into one another. </p><p>After all this time—all those highways and never-ending roads from our drives, he had mastered driving with a single hand at high speeds. There wasn't a single swerve, and every curve in the street was met with perfect precision.</p><p>His other hand—well, that's what had me kept in that small space. There was hardly any room for my head to move up and down now.</p><p>His fingers twisted in my hair, his hand would press down and when he did that it definitely seemed like he’d push the gas further to pull another 5 or so miles.</p><p>“F-uck,” he muttered under his breath there was a tint of pain. That must've been the scrape from my teeth. I tried my best to keep that minimal but most of the times the roads were beyond jagged.</p><p>Back to the single hand on the wheel and the automatic transmission that made everything possible. It left him wanting more, in every instance. It could be seen as a reward. It tied my self-worth together.<br/>
That free hand would move away from my hair, slide down my spine but noth before a quick and heavy “unbutton your shorts”.</p><p>My hands would desperately reach down to do so. Fingers in a quick messy objective to pop the button only to go back to his dick. My mouth never stopped, and he really must’ve loved that.</p><p>Now with easier access his hand would slip in my loosened shorts. His middle finger rubbed my entrance—God, he knew just how to do it. My dick was getting hard just at the thought of the way he’d stick them in one by one. He'd start slowly then match my pace, that was heaven~</p><p>Of course if the second part of the act did happen, he would skid the car to the side of the road. </p><p>There had been a time where he fingered me without stopping the car. My heated face moaning into his lap until I came. It was only once since he almost swerved off the road.</p><p>But he wouldn't stop there, he'd pull me by my hips and make me sit on his dick, my back pressing against his chest. The heat of his breath fanned over my neck, his arms wrapped around my stomach, and at times his hand would jerk me off all while he had his dick buried inside of me. </p><p>And when everything was done. The bodies covered in heat and in the dark he would make me suck my come off his fingers—the same ones that were inside of me, and that gave me such a euphoric feeling.</p><p>At the same time I was such a whore for him. It was shameful to admit that even with other people in the car, I’d do something similar but never what we could do when alone. </p><p>It could be something simple, like a stare, a text or even slightly rubbing my knee up against his anything from that to my hand full on sneaking under his shorts. And he’d stare back at me with anger but it was easily with a false intention. </p><p>Then the upcoming pitstop would be the saviour to such things. We’d scramble to the bathroom and finished whatever I started there.</p><p>I would put out for him anywhere. That's probably why he would drag me away from everyone to do stuff to me. I shouldn't be allowed to complain if I gave him that version of myself so easily.</p><p>My mind dragged back to him. I had been going for a good 15 minutes but his words came into my head. “How could you forget that you don’t respond to anyone but me?” He forcibly pushed my head all the way down. His dick was now touching the back of my throat and the saliva was seeping out of the corners of my mouth as I choked.</p><p>I’m sorry. Tears were forming—was that from his dick or my regret?</p><p>My hands came up to his thighs. I could hardly breath now. He wouldn't stop until he came. My fingers dug into his thighs a little, letting him know to loosen his grip  innstead, the hold he had over my hair was harsher.</p><p>I didn't realize that he stopped the car. Now we were on the side of the road. And part 2 was definitely not coming. So why did he stop the car? </p><p>He pushed me down further. He was getting back at me for the shit I made him feel, wasn't that it? I didn't fight it. I just hope he isn't angry anymore, like he promised.</p><p>He never gave me a warning—not that I wanted one anyway. There was that almost shocking and unexpected moment that I craved when I’d suck him off. I never knew when it was coming, like now. He made a low groan right after he came into my mouth. My face was heating up more with how his come filled my mouth, while I managed to swallow most of it some of it was still dripping from my lips. </p><p>I made sure to clean up every last bit of it. His grip was now gone, his hand was stroking my hair lightly. His breath was choppy from overhead. </p><p>My fingers swiped the come off my face only to lick it up. I knew he was watching me, and every hitch in his already fucked up string of inhales was because he loved what he was seeing. I stuck my fingers in my mouth, sucking them clean and letting them go with a pop. I stared up at him while gasping for air.</p><p>“Thas a good boy.” He placed his hand over my warm cheek, my heart fluttering when he did so; he enjoyed it. </p><p>His thumb wiped the bottom of my lip before he stuck it in and placed it over my tongue. He pressed down lightly. I tilted my head back, eyes fully closed enjoying the way he slowly slipped it out of my mouth.</p><p>“I love the way you taste.” My hand held onto his wrist. There was that confident version of myself that wasn't Cherry but rather just me. And it was hard to find it. Over the years that version of myself had been buried. </p><p>I pulled his hand back to my mouth, this time his index and middle finger replaced his thumb. My tongue wrapped around them keeping them in my mouth. I pulled them out slowly again, a string of saliva connected to the tip of my tongue and them.</p><p>“‘Course you do.” He smiled lazily, his eyes half-lidded as he watched me do that,<br/>
Still, this wasn't approval. </p><p>He also knew that I was desperate. That I wanted him to finger me right then but we both knew that it wasn't coming. And maybe if I wasn't fucking up with him, I could've had him doing my favorite things to me…</p><p>Open palms pressed down over his legs as I held myself up towards him. He stared at me, never backing away. </p><p>Deep drown with a flushed complexion. I was at his level, and that was something that seemed unusual. </p><p>“Fuck me, please.” It was breathless and desperate. I wasn't going for that tone but I couldn't control this any longer. </p><p>“No.” He pushed me off of him, his hand firmly on my chest until I was completely out of his way. </p><p>My lips started to tremble as tears started to form. I slipped the hair tie off of my hair and fell back into my seat, my legs going up to my chest as I started to lightly sob over my knees.</p><p>I can’t take it anymore. I shouldn’t be here anymore. </p><p>Feeling unwelcome was something that became mutual. Now, it was something that I couldn’t deal with. </p><p>10/////</p><p>“C-can I hold you?” He didn’t answer but I still walked over and wrapped my arms around him. </p><p>The sun crept over his face, his hair was golden and his eyes a clear blue. “You're so beautiful, I want you forever.” I mumbled into his sweater.</p><p>Again, he didn't say a thing. He also didn't push me away. That made me feel a little hopeful. I’ve always liked how tall he was compared to me. I could watch him do so many things but now, I knew something was off—more than what it had been today. He puffed the cigarette, his eyes stared at everything around us—there was something coming. </p><p>“We shouldn't see each other anymore.” It cut right through me. </p><p>“I’m going solo. You've been holding me back.” A second hit and I let go of him. He didn't even look at me or ask me how I felt about it. I knew that this was coming. But I stayed. Why did I stay until the end?</p><p>I swallowed the fear and sadness that mixed together. The bumpy road under me could be shifting for all I cared but it wasn't going to stop me from telling him the truth—I needed to hurt him, at least once, before we broke this off. </p><p>“Scott, I need to tell you something.”</p><p>“Nothing you say now will change my decision. I don't care who you fucked. What we had is over.”</p><p>I couldn't hear any more of what he was saying, “I know you and Elmo have something!” I blurted out. I didn't want to approach it like this but I had no other option. </p><p>He quickly turned to look at me. He was fully engaged now, unlike the interactions we had today. Still, he wasn't leaning towards anger. He was unsure of what to say. Not only that but I knew that he was planning every action, every word carefully. He wanted to know how much I knew about it.</p><p>A simple “and?” cut through the tension. </p><p>There wasn't a way to regain my composure anymore. I couldn't go back either. “Are you-” My voice crumbled but I never look away from him. “Are you really in love with him?”</p><p>His intake of breath is choppy once again. “Who the fuck’s tellin’ you that shit?” He dropped the cigarette and stepped closer. “Don’t get involved with my personal life.”</p><p>What the hell? I backed away from him not wanting to cut what I needed to get out with a hit from him.</p><p>“He doesn’t love you, Scott.” There were a few moments when I could genuinely tell that something had him speechless, this was one. He didn't say a word and it started to get me angry. I needed his reaction, I wanted to see something else other than that cold act he has around me. </p><p>“Ever since you did that shit to me I’ve been fucking him! He came into my room and I fucked him while you were passed out.”</p><p>“No, you were just a pass-time.”</p><p>“It didn’t end there we met up, we’ve been meeting up—for years now.” His breath was even more jagged, he wanted to hide it but he was failing. He stared at the ground. He was piecing it together, all those nights where Elmo wasn't around, he was with me and I knew that he was aware now. </p><p>I stepped closer this time. My whole demeanor changed into something comfortable. “Scott, he loves me.”</p><p>“DON’T YOU FUCKING SAY THAT!”</p><p>“Part of me loves him too.”</p><p>“You always wanted to hurt me.”</p><p>“You hurt me!”</p><p>“FUCK YOU, BITCH!” I dropped to my knees. I didn't even see it coming. After so many times he’s done it, it felt like nothing now. </p><p>Fuck—it didn’t matter anymore. I looked back up at him. The blood from my nose slipped down my face now. Some of it getting in my mouth as slow, heavy breaths painfully came out of me. </p><p>There was a low tone from me now and, emitting from him, was every kind of anger. </p><p>This was going to fucking end. </p><p>Yet, that moment, I should’ve known—should’ve accepted the fact that it was looming. </p><p>And now, I—WE were living it.</p><p>The texture of the ground was creating indents on my knees and everything about what was going on was already classified as the worst. </p><p>It didn’t end there for me, I wanted him to feel more of what he was feeling now, let it sting real fucking good. </p><p>I smiled, leaning onto the car, slightly shaking as everything started to feel numb. “How does my ass taste when you kiss him?”</p><p>His eyes turned over to full anger, he was scowling, teeth grit and a kick to my gut. I fell over the road. An awful ache was radiating through my whole body. </p><p>Yeah, it was regrettable in this instance. </p><p>But when I’d be in a bathtub, miles away from him—bruised, yet I’d be laughing while sipping wine, happy, that I took it that far. </p><p>I heard him walk away but before leaving I managed to huff out, “you’re never gonna see me again.” </p><p>The door slammed shut, and I'm unsure if he caught it or not.</p><p>Fuck. </p><p>Tears were slipping down the sides of my face. </p><p>The ground was wet but the smell was beautiful. And it made me feel dizzy, almost as if my mind was trying to kickstart a good memory that I had deliberately tied to this certain smell. </p><p>This was far from, and I wasn’t even in the grieving stage yet. </p><p>I watched the patches of the sky turn a shade darker in between the leaves. </p><p>How long had I been here now? </p><p>My chest wasn’t a violent up-and-down anymore, the pounding of my heart and neck was light. </p><p>“YOU DID THIS TO ME, YOU FUCKING DID THIS TO ME!” I turned my head slightly to get a better understanding of what he was yelling — but my mind was taking me elsewhere. Mixing the muffled yells from him to the soft ones that lingered despite the years. </p><p>“Why?” That cut between my fear and the dotting of the rain. Instantly, it made me turn to look at him.</p><p>He was hardly kept by the darkness. He was slouched and on his knees, soft cries came from him. The light from the living room illuminated what was relevant to the moment.</p><p>It had been raining the whole night. The rhythm was irregular, and it was making me go tense. </p><p>His fingers were covering his closed eyes, tears were streaming down his face. “Ari, I’m so sorry.” His voice cracked.</p><p> I had been watching him from the point where his anger-emitting composure completely crumbled. It was almost as if the end of the hallway was a border and once he stepped into my fragile territory he realized who he should really be, and it was in full swing. </p><p>The destruction of his demeanor was at the sight of me by the door; bags in hand. I slipped out of bed after his tirade. </p><p>“YOU FUCKING RUINED ME!”</p><p>“Please, don't leave me. I’m no one without you!” </p><p>“I’ll die alone if you leave me.”</p><p>“I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!”</p><p>“I’m so wrong, baby, so wrong.” </p><p>“You did this to me.” There wasn't a need to point at the bruises. Solely by the way I was shifting my body weight, the reminder was being yelled. I knew that I wouldn't be able to be around anyone for a few weeks again. I couldn't lift my shirt up without a remembrance. I couldn’t stay here another night. </p><p>“FUCK YOU! I GAVE YOU ME! FUCK YOU!” My memories were crowded with his yells.</p><p>His fingers intertwined with mine. I stared down at his hands and the way they gently caressed mine. Why am I letting him do this?</p><p>“We’re both so alone in this world. It's just us trapped here.” His voice was raspy but I wanted to hear it. I stared into his eyes.</p><p>“Accept me as I am.”</p><p>It wasn’t sorry, but he was on his knees begging -- that was the lowest point for any man. </p><p>I sank to my knees, dug my face into his chest, and began to cry. </p><p>“Get the fuck up.” </p><p>My eyes shot open. I was taken back to reality. He was standing in front of me. His eyes were red—fuck. </p><p>Still, he was no victim, and thinking back to the memory that just merged with his yells from the call with Elmo, he is the epitome of something so putrid—crawling around the floor with no remorse. He could never be anything but that. He was never sorry--he’ll never be sorry. </p><p>My legs were shaking but I managed to stand up. The blood was now dry, so I didn't have to worry about that—for now at least. I swayed slightly, my footing readjusting constantly. </p><p>Both of his hands held onto my face, pushing me closer into him. With half-lidded eyes I stared back at him. It surprised me that he had even helped me stand straight, it knocked the wind out of me, and vertigo was creeping now. </p><p>But what was coming? He was still the same from earlier, no? I wasn’t scared, I haven’t been in months. The worst was to come, I knew. </p><p>I let him keep me there, his menacing figure holding me steady and I wasn’t going to say more damaging things, it was over. Especially whatever dumb thing he was going to do with Elmo. </p><p>Elmo was right. I wasn't one of Scott’s priorities anymore. And despite the whole yelling and threatening over the phone, he’d given him leniency. </p><p>It was back to him, on his knees, begging for forgiveness--he’ll be saying he isn’t good enough.</p><p>How deeply lost was he? </p><p>I didn't care anymore, not for him and not for Elmo. We both took this to the worst possible outcome. And like always, he had the final say, the final blow to make him feel like he was winning. I didn’t mind anymore, everything was out, he could say whatever needed to be said. I wouldn’t stick around long after this anyway. </p><p>“Say it.” Slurred words filled the space between us, I couldn’t stand another second of this. </p><p>“No one is ever around for me.” He sounded completely broken. He let that side of him out and it was freely moving around me, striking me with remorse. </p><p>I held my composure knowing that the guilt-tripping act was starting—but maybe this time it was valid? I ruined his relationship—but he ruined ours, then again, maybe we weren't meant for this.</p><p>Still, it was off-putting, I wanted him to let go of me now. </p><p>This had to be the first time — in a long time where we'd be this close, and his expression wasn't unwelcome. </p><p>His eyes were dilated, there wasn't a smile but he wasn't displeased, he liked what he was staring at.</p><p>Why?</p><p>“When all of this is over, it'll just be you and me.” His words were soft now. No more erratic behavior. His eyes were ready to close as if he were tired. </p><p>“When you overestimate your tolerance by a few grams and you die, I'll put a bullet through my head.” He had his eyes closed when he spoke—he’s thought about that before. It made my heart skip a beat hearing him say that, it was something so warm and pretty. Would he really do that for me? </p><p>“But you didn't do that, and you're here now, with me.” He whispered while leaning closer. My weak stability started to strengthen now. I wanted to tell him how much he meant to me. How I will always prefer being around him than with anyone else. </p><p>“I love you, Ari.” I was ready to collapse in his arms. The way he said, it was real. I wanted to break down and be held by him, at the same time I wanted to kiss him.</p><p>“I love-” My words were quick but he cut me off.</p><p>“Open the door.” He stared into my eyes this time. </p><p>“I love you too.” I quickly pitch in before he says something else. At the same time my hand opened the car door without looking. </p><p>“Get in. We’ll talk about it.” He motioned for me to get in with a head tilt. </p><p>“I love you so fucking much.” Glossed over eyes stared up at him. My hands ran up his chest and to his neck so I could pull him closer. </p><p>“I know. Get in.” He practically mouthed it out, and I lost every sense of dignity and went on a full trip of regret with my earlier choices. </p><p>I wanted to say how sorry I was. But decided not to say a thing. I slid into the backseat, my head hanging low.</p><p>“What you doin’ all the way over there?” His finger circled around my belt loop, lightly tugging me to come closer. </p><p>I stared at his hand. I knew what he was doing—the way he changed from how he was outside to now. He said we were going to talk about it but I know better than that. I wanted him to fuck me a while ago now I wanted to die.</p><p>Regardless, I still said it. “You said we would talk about it.”</p><p>There was a quick chuckle. I still didn’t turn to look at him. I never moved as well but that wasn’t an issue for him. He slid over to me. His chest pressing into my back. He grabbed my hair to move it to the other side just so he could rest his head over my shoulder. </p><p>“Now hold on, I’m in the mood for you.”</p><p>No, he couldn’t—I can’t let him do this to me anymore. I don’t care if we didn’t speak about it anymore. </p><p>“I'm not.”</p><p>“Yeah? And what the hell you gonna do about it?” That made my back tense up, my nails dug into the fluff of the seats, eyes wide and staring straight ahead. </p><p>His hand ran down my chest. He breathed in my scent. “Fuck, you know how much I love you right?”</p><p>“My lil' Ruby, I'm giving you what you wanted,” he mumbled in my ear. There was that smile, I couldn't see it but I knew it was there. My fingers were going numb, and I was starting to feel nausea. </p><p>He kissed my neck. The hand he had resting at my chest soon came up to my face, his fingers taking that well-known hold of my chin. </p><p>He had a tight grip over me. He forced me to stare right at him. </p><p>“How you want it, baby, huh?” Staring back with defeated eyes, I had no way of telling him to stop or simply say no. It was back to having me up against a wall—that constant fear and unknowing of what exactly was to come started to spin around in my head. The pounding of my chest was the result. But this was fun to him. </p><p>“Right, right, you wanted me to finger you, huh? Remember when I could get you off just by doing that? You'd lick your come off my kitchen counter.” I tore away the eye contact I had with him, even though he still held my face. Once I did his fingers dug deeper into my skin but that didn't stop me from looking away. </p><p>“Did you do that with him too?” It was almost a sting when he said that. He knew how to fill me with guilt. I tried hard to not let the memories come into my head but every mindless encounter with Elmo started to stain my head—the conversations after them too.</p><p>“You were still so new, but not easily influenced. You wouldn’t let anyone else inside of you, only me.” </p><p>On another note, I didn't want to hear any of the things he was saying. The image that I had of him was somehow detached from his words, maybe it was the moment I was currently going in and out of. It wasn't normal that I wanted to blank out during the intro to any of his illicit acts—only to be fully awake and receive every second of pure euphoria during the middle. </p><p>“Now who knows how many you’ve slipped with.”</p><p>Fuck you.</p><p>There was another laugh. His hand dragged down after letting my face go. I watched his fingers slide across my lower body. </p><p>And it was back to that fucking feeling of wanting it—wanting him. No matter how much it hurt, how his claws dug so deep, the bruises or wounds never mattered—was it because he knew how to do it right? Or was it that I was in love with him?</p><p>I wanted to tilt my head back, close my eyes and let his hand be the only thing that mattered. The way it moved over me. It wasn't even on my skin yet and I was already in agony from not having more. </p><p>But I didn't do any of that. The restriction was chipping away at my mind. </p><p> “I remember when you used to dance around.” His fingers were now on my thigh, rubbing up and down so slowly. </p><p>A quick visual of what he said came into my mind. Those nights were nothing like the newer nights, they never will be. Pure, clean and unique. My face was heating up at the thought. A small part of me also found it a little comical, since I would only do that after being so fucked up on stimulants and hallucinogens. </p><p>His hand went in between my thighs, it was immediate discomfort and in a morbid way “want” at the same time. I moved away slightly but that only made him press down over my dick. A sharp inhale of air from me made him loosen his grip.</p><p>“Then you'd take off all of your clothes just for me.” His hand moved an inch to pop the button of my shorts. Hearing that subtle sound made my heart race. </p><p>“The dancing was pretty bad, but I enjoyed it and everything after that, you almost made me put a ring on you.”</p><p>“What happened to that Ruby—or was that Cherry? huh? I miss him.” His voice was soft but wrapped around vile intent. It was that fake tone he'd use to mock me. </p><p>“You know I don’t do those drugs anymore.” It was a quick response, and it was the most I've said since being back here with him.</p><p>“Bullshit. You’re always trying to find something new.” Both of his hands met halfway around my waist to pull me in closer to him.</p><p>His breath was fanning over my neck. My skin was crawling but I slightly tilted my head so he could do what he needed to do. That was my instinct playing out. </p><p>“Something new to put inside of you, huh?” He started to kiss my neck. It wasn't anything quick like the last times but rather that gentle manner from years ago. My stomach was weak, soon my whole body would feel like I was floating with every kiss.</p><p>I didn't care for the degradation anymore. He could say whatever he wanted about me. And if I liked part of it along the way then there wasn't anything that I could do to fix it.</p><p>I quickly nodded. My face was full of heat and my eyes were frantic. “I'm a whore.” My lips couldn't say it any quicker.</p><p>He paused. His mouth was hovering over my skin, he was smiling. “And you love it, don't you?”</p><p>“So fuckin' much,” I breathed out. I tilted my head back. My hand found its way to that familiar place over his crotch. He went back in but this time with his teeth. My back arched with every light scrape from him. </p><p>“But what ‘bout me, baby? Huh? You still wanna let Ol’ Scarecrow inside of you?” He spoke between bites. </p><p>I was ready to beg for it. He knew this too. How could he not? I wouldn't have stayed this long. </p><p>“Y–es, please, fuck me. Only you.”<br/>
My fingers wanted his skin, they needed to hold something for stabilization. </p><p>He started to slow down. His teeth let go of my skin as he pulled away. I wanted to lean back into him or look at him but I didn't. </p><p>“Nah, I think you’re tired of me. It’s all adding up though, everything you do, the way you started being around me.”</p><p>No. It's not like that.</p><p>“You took my favorite act to him ain’t ya?”</p><p>I swear.</p><p>You drove it away, you pushed me to do this—the atmosphere was always full of the best feelings/vibes. It was back to his place, back to house with the shed, pretty overtones with purple lights and Pimp C shaking the walls.</p><p>Moments ago, I was sitting on the couch with him. We had been smoking. Times like these—where the nights slipped by after production—talking wasn't a necessity. The vibe was set right with drugs and heavy-bass music. </p><p>Still, the back and forth blunt rotation wasn't enough for me. That craving to attain a better high dragged me to my knees. I crawled the short distance to the coffee table. </p><p>Humming to myself, tired eyes<br/>
spotted a random bill and rolled it and held it in between two black manicured fingers. </p><p>“I love watching you do that.” I knew he had been watching me, ever since I slipped to my knees. Maybe he had even leaned closer. Regardless of what way he chose to watch me I always had the tendency to do things in such a way, slower maybe even in a sensual manner.</p><p>“Yeah?” I turned to look at him, the smile that was on me turned into a lip bite. </p><p>“Watch me up close then.” He got on his knees and instead of joining by my side he pressed up against me from behind, now I was in between his legs. </p><p>His hands ran up my chest while he dug his face in between neck and shoulder.</p><p>“You wanna give me somethin' better to do?” He mumbled. His hand was already under my shirt.</p><p>I softly laughed. My hand grabbed his.“Slow down, I’ll give you what you need in a sec.”</p><p>I took the rolled-up dollar and placed it over one of the seven lines I had in front of me. I pulled three of them quickly. I groaned while dropping the dollar and wiping the excess powder off my nose. </p><p>I rolled up another and handed it over to him. I leaned to the side giving him room to snort the other four. I watched with exuberant eyes, his blonde hair falling over his face so gracefully. I loved that his hand was still around my waist as he did it. </p><p>“Shit,” he groaned. His eyes were closed, he stayed stiff as he let it settle. </p><p>He went back to his position behind me. I took his hand and put it back where he had left off. I turned my neck towards him to kiss him. It was sloppy and desperate but it matched his other hand, which was now attempting to tug my shorts down.</p><p>I pulled away to catch my breath. I stared at him, the purple covered us in every type of beautiful emotion. “Fuck me over all of this money.” </p><p>He bent me over the table, my lips were partially open, eyes centered over the—our money~ </p><p>He held onto my hips as he fully pulled down my shorts and adjusted himself behind me. </p><p>I looked up at him, he had his eyes closed, the way the purple fell over him, his chain pounding over his chest. His fingers ran down my side. </p><p>He looked so pretty. Nothing existed outside of this room.</p><p>He smiled lightly and those blue eyes were purple; pupils larger than they should be. </p><p>“Ruby, I love you,” he breathed out over my neck. His hand came over mine. I could almost envision those diamond rings over our fingers... </p><p>“I love you so much, baby,” I whispered.</p><p>My view went from those bills covered in crushed pill residue and a purple light tinting them to the view from the backseat, his tattooed hands resting over my chest, it's what I wanted… So why was I on the verge of crying? </p><p>I knew how sad he was… how close to death he always has been and still is. How he drags the blade repeatedly. There were times where I wasn't there. </p><p>Things will never be the same. Those nights are gone forever. I should've let them be—I should've disappeared. This exchange isn't normal. </p><p>But he brought me back into this spiral. He makes it hard to leave. Just like now. “You wanna leave me? You gonna leave me, you fucking faggot? Just so you can run away with that pussy? And then what? Beg me to fuck you occasionally?” He knew me too well. He knew that if I ever did make the move to leave, I would end up back at his feet.</p><p>“N-no I, I never said that, I want you—us.” My voice cracked before I even got the second word in. </p><p>He made me turn in order to face him. He was back at that stare from when we were standing outside. </p><p>“I'm all you've ever wanted. We were made for each other. Not George, not that emo faggot that croaked, not Elmo, me.” My breath hitched in my throat and my heart was willing to give out. He meant what he was saying.</p><p>I nodded desperately, my hands came up to his chest. My fingers instantly gripped his shirt. “I love you!”</p><p>He wrapped his arms around me. I brought myself up to his chest, digging my face into him. “I only think of you,” I mumbled.</p><p>He let out a sigh. His hand ran down my hair once before he pulled me off of him.</p><p>“You're worth ruining the seats for.” </p><p>It was a split second of his eyes, then it was his hands that tightly took a hold of my waist only to turn me around. “Wh-” I still couldn't register what had happened. What he said. </p><p>He placed his hand on my upper back to forcibly push me up against the seats. I kept my face in the fur knowing now what he wanted. </p><p>“Keep your ass up, you ain't new to this.” My mind had been racing this whole time but now there was a sense of it slowing down, was it because I knew what was coming? My breath got caught in my throat as I lifted my hips upwards.</p><p>“Yeah, just like that, bitch.” His hands were on me again. Sliding up and down or gripping my ass. The instant his fingers applied pressure to any part of me, the heat over my face started to rise, and it left me shameful but it’s what I wanted.</p><p>I craned my neck—despite my face pressing down over the fur—to look at him. </p><p>I wanted to tell him that I would do anything for him. But everything I wanted to say in that embodiment of heat was taken a hold of and gutted. </p><p>A surge of shock—or more of a complete numbness transpired through my body. I couldn't find the right words seeing him with my phone in hand. </p><p>He was scrolling, then clicking, and finally reading.</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>It was an immediate loss then remembrance to what I had told Elmo. I knew that it was the first thing he was looking for.</p><p>He raised an eyebrow while looking at me. “You really like laying it on me don’t you?” </p><p>My breath was cut in my throat. He didn't want an answer. </p><p>He clicked off of it and started scrolling through what I can only assume was my gallery. Luckily there wasn't anything on there.</p><p>“Fuck that bitch. I can always forgive you but not him.” There was a plan in his head, he didn't mean what he said. He was going to get back at me. The idea of guessing when was never a good one for me. So, I’ll let anything play out. </p><p>“Why don’t we give ‘em a show? Whad’ya say, boy?”</p><p>But that made me turn to him quickly. My eyes were wide. “What the hell are you doing!?” I motioned to sit up but his hand quickly came back down on my back to keep me in place.</p><p>“Don’t you fuckin’ move.” His words were stuck in my head as they kept repeating and filled me with fear. This was genuine terror from him.</p><p>There was nothing that I could do. I stayed still as I watched him go back to being pressed up behind me. </p><p>What the hell did he mean by that?! </p><p>He brought the phone up. My whole self started to deteriorate. Then came that all too familiar feeling of having my shorts yanked down.</p><p>I wanted to hide. I couldn't grasp reality. I dug my face into the seat. The sweat started to burn into me. It wasn't anything quick either—that being time and his actions, everything was slowed down, holding so much space between his next move and in those gaps of space, came the worst feelings. The fact that I had to dwell on what he put on display for others to see. </p><p>“You wanna show everyone how good you take my dick?” A hard smack came causing a strain in my voice after a gasp. </p><p>I felt cold and utter disgust at what he was doing but still my mentality wasn't right, it was filled with so many things. It was an instinct to nod, and the fragile “yes” with a low pitch of scratchy vocals. </p><p>I couldn't start screaming or claiming something—that wouldn't be true, I wanted this, it’s the worst I’ve ever been—the worst thing I’ve ever wanted. I wanted to show everyone, at the same time I wanted to throw up. </p><p>His finger ran up and down my entrance, I shivered just at the touch of it. He pressed it down but not enough to go inside of me. </p><p>With a profusion of sweat I let out a shaky exhale, my fingers were resting at the tips of the fur, that instinct to pull on them was set for when he'd be ready. But now the anticipation was holding my neck tightly. </p><p>He laughed a bit, while mumbling a “yeah”. Part of me forgot that there was a 'chat' while going live. My whole composure could shatter just cringing at the thought but the lust was overpowering that, and it's what kept me on my knees and elbows.</p><p>I heard him spit, soon I felt the warm liquid slip down to where his finger was. Chills ran down my spine, but that wasn't even the start. </p><p>My stomach was in knots and I held my breath once he fully went in. He twisted it midway. I could hardly breath. He slipped in a second finger right after. </p><p>He was going slow, even if it was done a little messy. He was still holding the phone, possibly trying to get a good angle of it. That brought me back to hating what was going on but everytime they slipped in and out I was forgetting it. </p><p>I whined quietly into my personal space—knowing that this is what I needed while I was blowing him earlier—fuck that, I needed this everyday. </p><p>He pulled his fingers out of me. A low groan came from me. His hand was on my ass. I backed up into him without the intention. I could feel his dick once I did. </p><p>“Look at this slut.” Was received from my actions. But I didn't care.</p><p>Before going inside of me. My back arched as he went in. My fingers pulled the tips of the fur now. </p><p>“Tell ‘em how much you love it.” I rose up a little. My hand covering the moans that surrounded me. </p><p>Why was I trying to hide it anyway? Everyone already knew that I was enjoying this. </p><p>I looked up from where I had been. It was on the front camera I saw myself for a split second before digging my face back into the seats. </p><p>Back in his Impala. I would stretch my hand backward to meet his. Our fingers messily interlacing. But now this will always stain any good memory I had of car sex with him.</p><p>I looked back up and I tried to keep my eyes centered over the chat, various comments were popping up. Everything was blurry but some of them were in between: “OMG”, “WHAT THE FUCK!?!?!?!!!!”, “🤮THIS IS UNREAL”.</p><p>I felt shame even if I couldn't fully see what they were saying. Then again it wasn't exactly hard to guess what the opinion on us would be now. Not only that but this was something that was going to be spread everywhere. </p><p>“Go on, fuckin’ tell ‘em!” His voice came back. He was giving me what I wanted so I had to do what he was asking. I looked back up. I caught my eyes again and my moving figure.</p><p>“I love it,” I quickly mumbled. It was hardly anything, and I’m sure the phone didn't even pick it up. </p><p>“Say it louder.”</p><p>“I-I love it!” I quickly pitched in. My voice was strained and I couldn't speak properly from what he was doing to me. </p><p>“Yeah,” he quietly mumbled while bringing the phone back to him as he readjusted himself. </p><p>“Now, tell me what you want.”</p><p>“Come inside me, p-please!”</p><p>Open palms pressed into the surface, loose ends of fluff were caught in the middle. I rested my face on it. My eyebrows pushing together and my lips never closing from the various moans, cries or butchered “fuck”s.</p><p>My lips started to upturn when he pushed into me with more force.<br/>
My tongue slipped out only to rest over the fur. The soft texture stayed on the tip of my it. </p><p>“Filthy bitch.” He must’ve been able to see me smiling through my parted hair. </p><p>But then it was back to the things he was saying, and that brought me back to the ugly reality of what was going on. </p><p>“This y’all favorite rapper?” </p><p>But I couldn’t be mad, I couldn’t let him stop now either. It felt too good. </p><p>We were already ruined anyway. We can never recover from this. </p><p>“This fuckin’ pussy,” he breathed out.</p><p>He was doing this to me publicly—there was a sense of euphoria. Not just from me but from him too. That once lost feeling of warmth in my stomach came back. It came with that sudden urge to moan out his name repeatedly.</p><p>I turned to look at him. From the way he was moving and the strains in his voice that he was trying to cover up, he was fucking loving this more than he ever had.<br/>
His hair was covering his face. His jaw was clenched right before grunting. He was staring down, his eyes dragged up my spine until they met mine. </p><p>It’s been so long since we kept eye contact during this. I was expecting him to immediately pull away but he didn't. He was concentrating on me. </p><p>There was that moment again. Nothing existed just us. This was a replica of those nights. But the circumstances—it was definitely the vulgarity and immorality of it that made everything feel so much better. So good to the point that it resurfaced those impressions.</p><p>I wanted to stretch my hand back to grab his but what if he didn't take a hold of it? The phone had been pressed up against my skin since he had been holding my waist. There was no more visual to who had ever been watching only the sound—which wasn't any better. </p><p>I opted out of the whole hand thing. Instead, I took the opportunity to mouth out an ‘I love you’.</p><p>He knew what I had said but there wasn't a response, instead he dragged his eyes back down and then stared out the window. </p><p>I turned back to stare at the fur. My hand came up to my face to wipe away the watering of my eyes. </p><p>My back tensed up when his nails dug into my waist, his pace becoming quicker. I closed my eyes, my fists balled up around the fur, holding it tightly. </p><p>I hardly had room to breathe with all the heat now trapped around us. I didn't care for what was being seen anymore. I got what I wanted from him—at least one last time.</p><p>Partial huffs of breath from him fanned over me. His final thrusts were harsher, they became sloppy, and that was the indicator to his finish. </p><p>I could feel my own stomach turn. The heat came crawling back up on me. A string of similar moans and whines came from me only to be fed to the fur. </p><p>But it was finally here, and it was almost enough to make me blackout. It was the strongest it had ever been. Come was dripping down to the fur. He pressed up against me one more time. The grip of his nails was loosened. My body was shaking, I couldn't keep myself up. Soon, I’d be laying in my own filth and his too. </p><p>“Fuck, stupid whore,” he mumbled under his breath. </p><p>I didn't acknowledge the comment. After everything that just happened, my mind started to clear up. I knew that I still had to leave. It was my best bet to survive the rest of my life without him hurting me. I’d be living in misery for a few years but I’ll fix myself. </p><p>I could feel the come slip down the back of my thighs once he pulled out of me. My knuckles were white from my tight grip of the fluff. I let it go as I eased into a more relaxed state.</p><p>“Fuck.” My face pressed upon the fur; lips open with shallow breaths coming from my heavy chest. I wiped the sweat from my forehead over the fur. The imprints of his fingers were burning my skin despite removing them. </p><p>I knew the tears were ready to fall. What was the plan now? He showed everyone—he degraded me in front of everyone—and I was still willing to stay. “Scott, I'm so tired. We need to figure-”</p><p>There was a slight moment where my mind--let alone my body--couldn’t register what had just happened. It was quick, and it felt so unreal. It came with temporary vertigo, vision fading in and out from black--even the pink from the seats was starting to turn into grain in front of my very eyes. </p><p>At that moment, I didn’t hear him. His presence wasn’t alive, not in the atmosphere that I was in at least. </p><p>Then it came again this time harder than the last. Still, I didn’t know what was going on but my stale quietness turned into a yell this time. Just a single one, before everything went back to a stagnant stream. </p><p>A third one came, and it’s what brought me back to reality. Now he was alive in my existence, and he was ending mine. </p><p>What had just happened? Weren’t we- Was he still recording this? My hands were unstable; trembling as they took their course to reach my midsection. </p><p>I took a long but painful intake of breath only to be followed by a series of jagged, inconsistent ones. The air was being taken out of me. My fingers felt it first, wet and warm, yet, cold in some areas. I quickly brought it up to my face. </p><p>“W-what the fUCK?” Even the words coming from me sounded wrong, as if I wasn't pronouncing them correctly, they were torn apart. I had an urge to constantly repeat them until it settled with reality. </p><p>“What di-d YOU DO?!” My eyes were wide as I kept outlining the blood that slipped down to my wrists. “Why?” I made a move to turn around but quickly stopped from the pain. </p><p>My head fell back down over the fluff, my body collapsing soon after. My legs had started to shake. I heard the door open while he muttered something. </p><p>The door in front of me swung open. Through heavy breathes and watered eyes I made the effort to look up at him. </p><p>“S–cott, w–hy?” </p><p>He still had the phone in his hand, and it was still pointed right at me. </p><p>“Stop, please.” But, of course, there was no stopping what was going on—even if this was the worst he has ever taken it, yet, definitely the last. </p><p>And I was soon being thrown out onto the road, landing face first. He yanked me out by my arms but I didn't feel any more pain than what I was already dealing with. </p><p>I lay over the road motionless. My tears were the only things alive as they soaked into the ground. </p><p>He came back around from the other side. I didn’t have the strength to look at him this time. </p><p>His foot came up to my shoulder to turn me over into the dirt—this was too familiar. </p><p>My naked body pressed into the soil, it was fresh but not yet mush, somewhere in between, and it was melting into my body.<br/>
It smelled so earth-like with a sweet hint, yet, it was beyond a rancid feeling.</p><p>I caught his stare before he pulled it away to look at the phone. There was something in his eyes, I could've sworn–this time I could feel that regret coming from him--or was it just make-believe from my side? Was it my memories replacing what was going on? </p><p>He squatted right next to me. I kept my stare over his--I needed to find that little bit of remorse, I needed it to be true--it couldn’t have been fake. </p><p>I catch his eyes again but it's not what I was looking for. They're not cold but rather dilated and vivid, he liked this. </p><p>“Dying pig.” His words get caught in my head, especially the way he spoke it, as if it were an exchange during an intimate moment, breathless and full of craving.</p><p>Instead of a response from me a whimper left my lips, it wasn't intentional. I couldn't control what I was doing anymore. </p><p>There was that upturn of his lips. He pressed something on the phone before extending his arm and throwing it far into the trees. I didn't watch it fly overhead, I just kept my eyes on his. </p><p>“This was never about them or our career—fuck that shit.” </p><p>“It’s always been about dragging you to the bottom.” </p><p>He moved onto his knees. One arm extended over my chest, he kept it there. He leaned in close to me. His blue eyes striking down my wilting presence. But soon they were staring at my parted lips. He inched even closer. My heart was pounding in my chest—I always imagined that something similar to this would happen while I was dying—I just never thought he’d be the one to do it, not on these terms at least. </p><p>Yet, I still needed him. I wanted to feel him for the last time. Regardless of everything I said about him hurting me, none of that mattered anymore. My hand hovered over his face. I craned my neck up with the remaining strength that I still had left. It was so close—he quickly pulled away. “You were always so easy—so stupid,” now he started to laugh.</p><p>“It’s always been such an uncontrollable lust to drag you to the lowest.”</p><p>“Why?” My body was now numb in some areas. I wanted to say more but it all kept leaving my head. </p><p>He stood up. “We couldn't share a grave, I wouldn't be able to leave this earth in peace, so I’m making sure of it.” </p><p>“It's the worst possible thing I could've ever done to you.” everything he was saying started to fade in and out; dialogue scattered and my comprehension was aimlessly failing but not that last part. I caught it, and it tore my heart. </p><p>“Scott, don’t leave me here!” Something below a yell managed to leave my mouth. It made him stop, and I wanted to see at least a little bit of regret on him but it wasn't that.  </p><p>“You shoulda ran before I did.” He was looking at me—for the last time. I wanted to piece what was going on but I was so tired. </p><p>No. </p><p>Don’t leave me alone.</p><p>Twisted under a California sun. Hands dug deep into an unforgettable moment.<br/>
Clear blue eyes with waves of blonde hair—falling above his shoulders—were in front of me. Despite the (new) beautiful views we had been exposed to, I kept my focus on him.</p><p>My body pressed up against his slim frame. My arms wrapped around his waist. My eyes focused on the skinny, silver chain around his neck—a matching one on mine. </p><p>Over the day we slipped away from the mock-up stands and mock-up friends, and burrowed away past the depth of the field of tree hybrids and flower lots. </p><p>It was some-what a resemblance to a vineyard but a failed one.</p><p>Now we were in a grassy patch. Behind us, a backdrop of the dark sky with the rest of the field, across from that, the setting sun, the festival was underneath it. </p><p>Soon enough the sun would be completely gone and we’d be in the dark, the only light would be that from the gathering. </p><p>He had been watching the people go on about their day. There wasn't much of a conversation between us before arriving here. Not that it was needed anyway. This was usual whenever we’d run off to a secluded area. My mind thought back to the evenings we’d spend in that abandoned school.</p><p>I brought my lips up to his mouth for a quick kiss. Now his attention was back to me. There was a slight smile but we still didn't say a thing. It felt almost wrong not seeing the smoke between his lips. </p><p>My hands came up to his face. Delicately, my fingertips brushed down his cheeks. My eyes -- his too, watched the movement. </p><p>The hot sun (now dying) had been beaming down on us. I stared at his skin, drawing a reflection of my own. It was almost as if I were far too pale to tan — mostly, a sunburn would fry my skin up if I stayed outside. But his — he was meant to be under the California or Florida sun. His color was a light-golden, it was so natural. </p><p>It amazed me how the heroin left so little wreckage. I never said that of course. I understood his issues and how easily triggering it was if things (even relatively close to that) were said to him. </p><p>Yet, he allowed me to step into that zone -- a small area in which he gave permission to touch his flaws. No one had ever been there before, I was alone and that was comforting. </p><p>My thumb swiped over a patch of noticeable pricks over his right cheek. </p><p>He knew right away. There was a slight groan but he kept it at that. He knew I wasn't judging him. Even if it didn't matter to me —</p><p>“Might get a tattoo to cover it.”</p><p>It mattered to him. He hated that it was irreversible, how people could easily know a piece of his past just by looking at his face, it angered him.</p><p>“No, you're good.”</p><p>He looked down, there wasn’t a time, in this moment, for a small back-and-forth argument over it, he knew it. I also knew that he didn’t want to ruin this. </p><p>I moved my hands down to his shoulders in order to change the subject. Despite the inhibition of the matter, words were hardly ever needed, it was almost mentally known with the stares, body language — touches. A profound connection; we were so good at it, nothing was ever a miss.</p><p>I looked up at his eyes, they were semi-closed, his lashes stood out like that. Dark, a beautiful contrast against his eye color. It was only a few instances where I saw them. Mine were curled up at an angle naturally but his were straight making them look short most times. They could've easily been longer than mine. </p><p>I wanted to bring my finger up to them and touch them but decided against it, thinking I would be overdoing it. I settled for a view instead. </p><p>He had questioned me about it before. How I could cut into any moment we had together just to acknowledge every detail of his. It probably wasn't worded like that — more of a “why you always lookin’ at me like that, bitch?”</p><p>It made me laugh a little. He wasn’t sure if it was something to ask, and you could easily filter out the nervousness behind it. </p><p>He didn't like it at first, he never wanted to be the attention, to him it was like being singled out. My intentions weren't raw. I knew how sensitive his boundaries with self-image were. He hated every aspect of himself — most times. </p><p>I was what upheld his self-worth — not entirely but he did find or pick out some likes because of me. </p><p>Because of the things I did or said: he developed an unsaid want for the attention.</p><p>“How the hell are you so cool?” I spoke breathlessly, my eyes high with amusement. </p><p>There was a cut in his breathing, then a quiet scoff, he didn’t believe it. </p><p>“You wanna do this still?” </p><p>I nodded briefly. He watched as I tilted my head back, opening my mouth with a smile, “fuck me up.”</p><p>His arm wrapped around my waist. He brought me in closer as well to keep me steady. </p><p>He placed the square over my tongue. </p><p>I hummed lightly while digging my face into his neck. These were the moments where it was the closest breach into heaven.</p><p>He brought his hand upon mine, motioning me to sit with him. The grass was extremely cold and uncomfortable but he made it worth it. </p><p>I just now noticed the residue from the flowers that were over us. As if it were yellow powder from crushed chalk. The only difference was the smell, it was beyond sweet, almost nauseating.  </p><p>I watched him with my half-lidded eyelids, a small smile and a woozy figure. He was doing a lot better than me. His composure was intact, no slurred speech. His tolerance was always higher — because of the prolonged drug use. </p><p>His calloused hand started at my ankle, he dragged it up my thigh. I could feel every texture of his palm. The rough patches on some parts; memorized as if it were my own.</p><p>As if he were mine. </p><p>Time and time again, I told myself that what we have is temporary. These days—months, it really did seem like it was set for an eternity—That couldn’t be it. There will be things that alter perceptions, maybe even the one I have now. </p><p>I didn't—couldn’t start over with anyone else. No one understands me the way he does.</p><p>It was always in the back of my head—but what if those things never happened and everything stayed how it currently is? What if he wants me forever?</p><p>He leaned in to kiss my neck once before resting his head on me. He must be tired. My hand came up to his arm, my thumb brushed his fingers. </p><p>I stared out to the distance. Now the lights were small smudges. Faint music echoed towards us; too dark to see anyone. </p><p>And like I said,  fake friends—they quickly forgot our existence, we were nothing to them but a walking opportunity. And it could fall under any cliche: out-casts finding stability in isolation or dramaless individuals wanting an escape.</p><p> Maybe it was the different ways life tossed us, how similar the both of us had it — maybe the circle would’ve been bigger if they experienced remotely similar things. </p><p>I guess he had his own way of doing things. It was pretty to see it play out. His finger pressed over the angel kiss that was over my forehead. </p><p>With a lop-sided smile I pecked him on the lips but midway I realized he hadn’t been smiling, he was expressionless. After that he shifted his body away from me. There was a change in the mood we had set, it was slight but I caught it. </p><p>Was it the comment from earlier?</p><p>My hand came up to his arm. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>He turned back to me, avoiding my stare. His hand came up to my chest, there was a slight push so I could lay over the grass. I did just that. The cold sensation was now re-lived over my back and arms.</p><p>He still didn't say a thing. He laid his head over my chest. I watched his blonde hair fall over me like silk threads. His hands were pressed-up to his chest. </p><p>My arm wrapped around his body. This only happened in a few instances. When it did, he felt small compared to me, fragile — like if it wasn't him. Or rather, it was that side he never wanted to bring out. </p><p>There was a low sigh, “nothin’.”</p><p>I stared up at the sky, a horrid feeling mixing into the dark clouds. A slight glaze over my eyes as I held onto him tighter. </p><p>“Alright,” I mumbled. </p><p>There was a quiet breeze around us. I cleared the lump in my throat. The tears still found their way down the sides of my face. “You don't need it.” It was an assumption. </p><p>I should've known then.</p><p>His hand crawled up my chest. </p><p>Modesty was still relevant—fame is a spiral of a shit show. I wish I knew what he was thinking then.</p><p>Did he always know that this would be the outcome? </p><p>Or</p><p>Was it I who ruined us?</p><p>My hands swiped upwards to crawl, and collect dirt under my nails along the way. My legs were completely numb now. There wasn't a single feeling below my waist, no prick or poke to help me. </p><p>This was acceptance now.</p><p>My face plopped down on the dirt. My eyes stayed on his figure. My vision merged into each other causing me to see numerous versions of him.</p><p>Tears fell over the dead leaves. My eyes rolled back, and when I forced them to stare at him it was only through tunnel vision, my focus was inconsistent.</p><p>There was a change. Atmosphere wise—probably. I couldn't know, all my thoughts were crashing, being rebuilt or others resurfacing. That was the thing, I couldn't label them. </p><p>My chest was so calm, and the back of me was now warm, almost as if it were him wrapping me in his arms. </p><p>The revving of the engine started to drown out. He was gone.</p><p>I forced my eyes open one last time. The tail lights’ red glow faded into the path.  </p><p>It had to be— </p><p>It had to be my last thought… </p><p>Almost as if he had overheard my feelings. It never felt invasive—I don't think it ever will. Watered eyes mirrored the colors of the lights that shifted and curved infrequently.</p><p>His words slipped into my mind. </p><p>“We’re soul tied, Ari.”</p><p> </p><p>If you're alone—long enough—you’ll create a new reality. </p><p>Love you forever, miss you forever, you fucking ethereal eater.</p>
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